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THE 
ERRAND  BOY 

How  Phil  Brent  Won  Success 


By  HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 

Author  of**  In  Search  of  Treasure,"  "  Tom  Temple's  Career," 
'•Mark  Manning's  Mission,"  "Tom  Thatcher's  Fortune,"  Etc., 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY,  PUBLISHERS 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1888.     By  A.  L.  BURT. 


THE    ERRAND    BOY. 
By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 


The  Errand  Boy. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PHIL   HAS    A    LITTLE    DIFFICULTY. 

PHIL  BEENT  was  plodding  through  the  snow 
in  the  direction  of  the  house  \vhere  he  lived 
with  his  step-mother  and  her  son,  when  a  snow-ball, 
moist  and  hard,  struck  him  just  below  his  ear  with 
stinging  emphasis.  The  pain  was  considerable,  and 
Phil's  anger  rose. 

He  turned  suddenly,  his  eyes  flashing  fiercely,  in- 
tent upon  discovering  who  had  committed  this  out- 
rage, for  he  had  no  doubt  that  it  was  intentional. 

He  looked  in  all  directions,  but  saw  no  one  except 
a  mild  old  gentleman  in  spectacles,  who  appeared  to 
have  some  difficulty  in  making  his  way  through  the 
obstructed  street. 

Phil  did  not  need  to  be  told  that  it  was  not  the 
old  gentleman  who  had  taken  such  an  unwarrant- 
able liberty  with  him.  So  he  looked  farther,  but 
his  ears  gave  him  the  first  clew. 

He  heard  a  chuckling  laugh,  which  seemed  to  x^ro 


6  THE  ERRAND  EOT, 

ceed  from  behind  the  stone  wall  that  ran  along  the 
roadside. 

"  I  will  see  who  it  is,"  he  decided,  and  plunging 
through  the  snow  he  surmounted  the  wall,  in  time 
to  see  a  boy  of  about  his  own  age  running  away 
across  the  fields  as  fast  as  the  deep  snow  would 
allow. 

"  So  it's  you,  Jonas !"  he  shouted  wrathfully.  "  I 
thought  it  was  some  sneaking  fellow  like  you." 

Jonas  "Webb,  his  step-brother,  his  freckled  face 
showing  a  degree  of  dismay,  for  he  had  not  calcu- 
lated on  discovery,  ran  the  faster,  but  while  fear 
winged  his  steps,  anger  proved  the  more  effectual 
spur,  and  Phil  overtook  him  after  a  brief  run,  from 
the  effects  of  which  both  boys  panted. 

"What  made  you  throw  that  snow-ball?"  de- 
manded Phil  angrily,  as  he  seized  Jonas  by  the  col- 
lar and  shook  him. 

"You  let  me  alone!"  said  Jonas,  struggling  in- 
effectually in  his  grasp. 

"  Answer  me !  "What  made  you  throw  that  snow- 
ball ?"  demanded  Phil,  in  a  tone  that  showed  he  did 
not  intend  to  be  trifled  with. 

"  Because  I  chose  to,"  answered  Jonas,  his  spite 
getting  the  better  of  his  prudence.  "Did  it  hurt 
you  ?"  he  continued,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  malice. 

"  I  should  think  it  might.  It  was  about  as  hard 
as  a  cannon-ball,"  returned  Phil  grimly.  "  Is  that 
all  you've  got  to  say  ab'^n<-  it  ?" 


PHIL  HAS  A  LITTLE  DIFFICULTY.  7 

"  I  did  it  in  fun,"  said  Jonas,  beginning  to  see  that 
he  had  need  to  be  prudent. 

"  Very  well !  I  don't  like  your  idea  of  fun.  Per- 
haps you  won't  like  mine,"  said  Phil,  as  he  forcibly 
drew  Jonas  back  till  he  lay  upon  the  snow,  and  then 
kneeling  by  his  side,  rubbed  his  face  briskly  with 
snow. 

"What  are  you  doin'?  Goin'  to  murder  me?" 
shrieked  Jonas,  in  anger  and  dismay. 

"  I  am  going  to  wash  your  face,"  said  Phil,  con- 
tinuing the  operation  vigorously. 

"I  say,  you  quit  that!  I'll  tell  my  mother," 
ejaculated  Jonas,  struggling  furiously, 

"  If  you  do,  teU  her  why  I  did  it,"  said  Phil. 

Jonas  shrieked  and  struggled,  but  in  vain.  Phil 
gave  his  face  an  effectual  scrubbing,  and  did  not  de- 
sist until  he  thought  he  had  avenged  the  bad  treat- 
ment he  had  suffered. 

"  There,  get  up !"  said  he  at  length. 

Jonas  scrambled  to  his  feet,  his  mean  features 
working  convulsively  with  anger. 

"  You'll  suffer  for  this !"  he  shouted. 

"  You  won't  make  me !"  said  Phil  contemptuously. 

"  You're  the  meanest  boy  in  the  village." 

"  I  am  willing  to  leave  that  to  the  opinion  of  all 
who  know  me." 

"  Pll  tell  my  mother !" 

"  Go  home  and  tell  her !" 

Jonas  started  for  home,  and  Phil  did  not  attempt 
to  stop  him. 


g  TEE  ERRAND  BOT. 

As  he  saw  Jonas  reach  the  street  and  plod  angrily 
homeward,  he  said  to  himself : 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  be  in  hot  water  for  this ;  but  I 
can't  help  it.  Mrs.  Brent  always  stands  up  for  her 
precious  son,  who  is  as  like  her  as  can  be.  "Well,  it 
won't  make  matters  much  worse  than  they  have 
been." 

Phil  concluded  not  to  go  home  at  once,  but  to 
allow  a  little  time  for  the  storm  to  spend  its  force 
after  Jonas  had  told  his  story.  So  he  delayed  half 
an  hour  and  then  walked  slowly  up  to  the  side  door. 
He  opened  the  door,  brushed  off  the  snow  from  his 
boots  with  the  broom  that  stood  behind  the 
door,  and  opening  the  inner  door,  stepped  into  the 
kitchen. 

Ko  one  was  there,  as  Phil's  first  glance  satisfied 
hun,  and  he  was  disposed  to  hope  that  Mrs.  Brent — 
he  never  called  her  mother — was  out,  but  a  thin, 
acid,  measured  voice  from  the  sitting-room  adjoin- 
ing soon  satisfied  him  that  there  was  to  be  no  re- 
prieve. 

"  Philip  Brent,  come  here !" 

Phil  entered  the  sitting-room. 

In  a  rocking-chair  by  the  fire  sat  a  thin  woman, 
with  a  sharp  visage,  cold  eyes  and  firmly  com- 
pressed lips,  to  whom  no  child  would  voluntarily 
draw  near. 

On  a  sofa  lay  outstretched  the  hulking  form  of 
Jonas,  with  whom  he  had  had  his  little  diffictdty. 


PHIL  EA8  A  LITTLE  DIFFICULTY.  9 

"  I  am  here,  Mrs.  Brent,"  said  Philip  manfully. 

"  Philip  Brent,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  acidly,  "  are  you 
not  ashamed  to  look  me  in  the  face  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  should  be,"  said  Philip,  brae 
ing  himself  up  for  the  attack. 

"  You  see  on  the  sofa  the  victim  of  your  brutal- 
ity," continued  Mrs.  Brent,  pointing  to  the  recum- 
bent figure  of  her  son  Jonas. 

Jonas,  as  if  to  emphasize  these  words,  uttered  a 
half  groan. 

Philip  could  not  help  smihng,  for  to  hrtn  it  seemed 
ridiculous. 

"  You  laugh,"  said  his  step-mother  sharply,  "  I 
am  not  surprised  at  it.  You  delight  in  your  brutal- 
ity." 

"  I  suppose  you  mean  that  I  have  treated  Jonas 
brutally." 

"  I  see  you  confess  it." 

"  No,  Mrs.  Brent,  I  do  not  confess  it.  The  brutal- 
ity you  speak  of  was  all  on  the  side  of  Jonas." 

"  No  doubt,"  retorted  Mrs.  Brent,  with  sarcasm. 
"  It's  the  case  of  the  wolf  and  the  lamb  over  again." 

"  I  don't  think  Jonas  has  represented  the  matter 
to  you  as  it  happened,"  said  Phil.  "  Did  he  tell  ^''ou 
that  he  flung  a  snow-ball  at  my  head  as  hard  as  a 
lump  of  ice?" 

"  He  said  he  threw  a  little  snow  at  you  playfully 
and  you  sprang  upon  him  like  a  tiger." 

"  There's  a  Uttle  mistake  in  that,"  said  Phil.  «  The 


10  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

snow-ball  was  hard  enough  to  stun  me  if  it  had  hit 
me  a  httle  higher.  I  wouldn't  be  hit  like  that  again 
for  ten  dollars." 

"  That  ain't  so !  Don't  believe  him,  mother !"  said 
Jonas  from  the  sofa. 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Brent 
with  a  frown. 

"  I  laid  him  down  on  the  snow  and  washed  his  face 
with  soft  snow." 

"  You  might  have  given  him  his  death  of  cold," 
said  Mrs.  Brent,  with  evident  hostility.  "  I  am  not 
sure  but  the  poor  boy  will  have  pneumonia  now,  in 
consequence  of  your  brutal  treatment." 

"  And  you  have  nothing  to  say  as  to  his  attack 
upon  me  ?"  said  Phil  indignantly. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  you  have  very  much  exagger- 
ated it." 

"  Yes,  he  has,"  chimed  in  Jonas  from  the  sofa. 

Phil  regarded  his  step-brother  with  scorn. 

"  Can't  you  tell  the  truth  now  and  then,  Jonas  ?'* 
he  asked  contemptuously. 

"  You  shall  not  insult  my  boy  in  my  presence !" 
said  Mrs.  Brent,  with  a  Uttle  spot  of  color  mantling 
her  high  cheek-bones.  "  Philip  Brent,  I  have  too 
long  endured  your  insolence.  You  think  because  I 
am  a  woman  you  can  be  insolent  with  impunity,  but 
you  will  find  yourself  mistaken.  It  is  time  that  you 
understood  something  that  may  lead  you  to  lower 
your  tone.    Learn,  then,  that  you  have  not  a  cent  of 


PHIL  HAS  A  LITTLE  DIFFICULTY.  H 

your  own.  You  are  AvhoUj  dependent  upon  my 
bounty." 

"  What !  Did  my  father  leave  you  all  his  money  ?" 
asked  Philip. 

"  He  was  not  your  father !"  answered  Mrs.  Brent 
coldly. 


12  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 


CHAPTER  11. 

A  STRANGE  REVELATION. 

PHILIP  started  in  irrepressible  astonishment  as 
these  words  fell  from  the  hps  of  his  step-mother. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  if  the  earth  were  crmnbling  be- 
neath his  feet,  for  he  had  felt  no  more  certain  of  the 
existence  of  the  universe  than  of  his  being  the  son 
of  Gerald  Brent. 

He  was  not  the  only  person  amazed  at  this  decla- 
ration. Jonas,  forgetting  for  the  moment  the  part 
he  was  playing,  sat  bolt  upright  on  the  sofa,  with  his 
large  mouth  wide  open,  staring  by  turns  at  Philip 
and  his  mother. 

"  Gosh !"  he  exclaimed  in  a  tone  indicating  utter 
surprise  and  bewilderment. 

"  Will  you  repeat  that,  Mrs.  Brent  ?'"  asked  Philip, 
after  a  brief  pause,  not  certain  that  he  had  heard 
aright. 

"  I  spoke  plain  English,  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Brent 
coldly,  enjoying  the  effect  of  her  communication. 
"  I  said  that  Mr.  Brent,  my  late  husband,  was  not 
your  father." 

"  I  don't  believe  you !"  burst  forth  Philip  impetu 
ously. 


A  STRANG E  REVELATION.  13 

"  You  don't  wish  to  believe  me,  you  mean,"  an- 
swered his  step-mother,  unmoved. 

"  No,  I  don't  wish  to  believe  you,"  said  the  boy, 
looldng  her  in  the  eye. 

"  You  are  very  polite  to  doubt  a  lady's  word,"  said 
Mrs.  Brent  with  sarcasm. 

"In  such  a  matter  as  that  I  believe  no  one's 
word,"  said  Phil.     "  I  ask  for  proof." 

"  Well,  I  am  prepared  to  satisfy  you.  Sit  down 
and  I  will  tell  you  the  story." 

Philip  sat  down  on  the  nearest  chair  and  regarded 
his  step-mother  fixedly. 

"Whose  son  am  I,"  he  demanded,  "if  not  Mr. 
Brent's  ?" 

"  You  are  getting  on  too  fast.  Jonas,"  continued 
his  mother,  suddenly  turning  to  her  hulking  son,  on 
whose  not  very  intelligent  countenance  there  was 
an  expression  of  greedy  curiosity,  "do  you  under- 
stand that  what  I  am  going  to  say  is  to  be  a  secret, 
not  to  be  spoken  of  to  any  one  ?" 

"  Yes'm,"  answered  Jonas  readily. 

"  Very  well.  Now  to  proceed.  Philip,  you  have 
heard  probably  that  when  you  were  very  small  your 
father — I  mean  Mr.  Brent — lived  in  a  small  town  in 
Ohio,  called  Fultonville  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  him  say  so." 

"  Do  you  remember  in  what  business  he  was  then 
engaged  ?" 

"  He  kept  a  hotel." 


14  TEE  ERRAND  B07. 

"  Yes ;  a  small  hotel,  but  as  large  as  the  place  re- 
quired. He  was  not  troubled  by  many  guests.  The 
few  who  stopped  at  his  house  were  business  men 
from  towns  near  by,  or  drummers  from  the  great 
cities,  who  had  occasion  to  stay  over  a  night.  One 
evening,  however,  a  gentleman  arrived  with  an  un- 
usual companion — in  other  words,  a  boy  of  about 
three  years  of  age.  The  boy  had  a  bad  cold,  and 
seemed  to  need  womanly  care.  Mr.  Brent's 
wife ^" 

"My  mother?" 

"  The  woman  you  were  taught  to  call  mother," 
corrected  the  second  Mrs.  Brent,  "  felt  compassion 
for  the  child,  and  volunteered  to  take  care  of  it  for 
the  night.  The  offer  was  gladly  accepted,  and  you — 
for,  of  course,  you  were  the  child — were  taken  into 
Mrs.  Brent's  o^vn  room,  treated  with  simple  reme- 
dies, and  in  the  morning  seemed  much  better.  Your 
father — ^your  real  father — seemed  quite  gratified, 
and  preferred  a  request.  It  was  that  your  new 
friend  would  tako  care  of  you  for  a  week  while  he 
traveled  to  Cincinnati  on  business.  After  dispatch- 
ing this,  he  promised  to  return  and  resume  the  care 
of  you,  paying  well  for  the  favor  done  him.  Mrs. 
Brent,  my  predecessor,  being  naturally  fond  of  chil- 
dren, readily  agreed  to  this  proposal,  and  the  child 
was  left  behind,  while  the  father  started  for  Cincin- 
nati." 

Here  Mrs.  Brent  paused,  and  PhiUp  regarded  her 
with  doubt  and  suspense. 


A  STRANGE  REVELATION.  15 

«  Well?"  he  said. 

'*  Oh,  you  want  to  know  the  rest  ?"  said  Mrs.  Brent 
with  an  ironical  smile.  "  You  are  interested  in  the 
story?" 

"  Yes,  madam,  whether  it  is  true  or  not." 

"  There  isn't  much  more  to  tell,"  said  Mrs.  Brent. 
*  A  week  passed.  You  recovered  from  your  cold, 
and  became  as  lively  as  ever.  In  fact,  you  seemed 
to  feel  quite  at  home  among  your  new  surroundings, 
which  was  rather  unfortunate,  yb/"  your  father  never 
came  hackP'' 

"  Never  came  back !"  repeated  Philip. 

"JSTo;  nor  was  anything  heard  fr'^"'  him  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Brent  came  to  the  conclusion  iha.\,  the 
whole  thing  was  prearranged  to  get  rid  of  you. 
Luckily  for  you,  they  had  become  attached  to  you, 
and,  having  no  children  of  their  own,  decided  to  re- 
tain  you.  Of  course,  some  story  had  to  be  told  to 
satisfy  the  villagers.  You  were  represented  to  be 
the  son  of  a  friend,  and  this  was  readily  believed. 
When,  however,  my  late  husband  left  Ohio,  and 
traveled  some  hundreds  of  miles  eastward  to  this 
place,  he  dropped  this  explanation  and  represented 
you  as  his  o^vn  son.    Romantic,  wasn't  it  ?" 

Phihp  looked  searchingly  at  the  face  of  his  step- 
mother, or  the  woman  whom  he  had  regarded  as 
such,  but  he  could  read  nothing  to  contradict  the 
story  in  her  calm,  impassive  countenance.  A  great 
fear  fell  upon  him   that  she  might  be  telling  the 


16  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

to*ath.  His  features  showed  fiis  contending  emo- 
tions. But  he  had  a  profound  distrust  as  well  as 
dislike  of  his  step-mother,  and  he  could  not  bring 
himself  to  put  confidence  in  what  she  told  him. 

"What  proof  is  there  of  this?"  he  asked,  after  a 
while. 

"Your  father's  word.  I  mean,  of  course,  Mr. 
Brent's  word.  He  told  me  this  story  before  I  mar- 
ried hun,  feeling  that  I  had  a  right  to  know." 

"  Why  didn't  he  tell  me  ?"  asked  Philip  incredu- 
iously. 

"  He  thought  it  would  make  you  unhappy." 

"  You  didn't  mind  that,"  said  Philip,  his  lips  curL 
ing. 
''  "  No,"  answered  Mrs.  Brent,  with  a  curious  smile. 
*^  Why  should  I  ?  I  never  pretended  to  like  you,  and 
now  I  have  less  cause  than  ever,  after  your  brutal 
treatment  of  my  boy." 

Jonas  endeavored  to  look  injured,  but  could  not  at 
once  change  the  expression  of  his  countenance. 

"  Your ,  explanation  is  quite  satisfactory,  Mrs. 
Brent,"  returned  Phihp.  "I  don't  think  I  stood 
much  higher  in  your  estimation  yesterday  than  to- 
day, so  that  I  haven't  lost  much.  But  you  haven't 
given  me  any  proof  yet." 

"  Wait  a  minute." 

Mrs.  Brent  left  the  room,  went  up-stairs,  and 
speedily  returned,  t  ringing  with  her  a  small  daguer- 
reotype, representing  a  boy  of  three  years. 


A  STRANGE  REVELATION.  17 

"  Did  you  ever  see  this  before  ?"  she  asked. 

"  No,"  answered  Philip,  taking  it  from  her  hand 
and  eying  it  curiously. 

"  When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brent  decided  that  you  were 
to  be  left  on  their  hands,"  she  proceeded,  "  they  had 
this  picture  of  you  taken  in  the  same  dress  in  which 
you  came  to  them,  with  a  view  to  establish  your 
identity  if  at  any  time  afterward  inquiry  should  be 
made  for  you." 

The  daguerreotype  represented  a  bright,  hand- 
some child,  dressed  tastefully,  and  more  as  would  be 
expected  of  a  city  child  than  of  one  born  in  the 
country.  There  was  enough  resemblance  to  PhUip 
as  he  looked  now  to  convince  him  that  it  was  reaUy 
his  picture. 

"  I  have  something  more  to  show  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent. 

She  produced  a  piece  of  white  paper  in  which  the 
daguerreotype  had  been  folded.  Upon  it  was  some 
writing,  and  Philip  readily  recognized  the  hand  of 
the  man  whom  he  had  regarded  as  his  father. 

He  read  these  lines : 

"  This  is  the  picture  of  the  boy  who  was  myste- 
riously left  in  the  charge  of  Mr.  Brent,  April,  1863, 
and  never  reclaimed.  I  have  reared  him  as  my  own 
son,  but  think  it  best  to  enter  this  record  of  the  way 
in  which  he  came  into  my  hands,  and  to  preserve  by 
the  help  of  art  his  appearance  at  the  time  he  first 
came  to  us.  Gekald  Bkent." 


18  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Do  you  recognize  this  handwriting  ?'*  asked  Mrs. 
Brent. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Philip  in  a  dazed  tone. 

"Perhaps,"  she  said  triumphantly,  "you  will 
doubt  my  word  now." 

"  May  I  have  this  picture  ?"  asked  Philip,  without 
answering  her. 

"  Yes ;  you  have  as  good  a  clami  to  it  as  any  one." 

"  And  the  paper  ?" 

"  The  paper  I  prefer  to  keep  myself,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent,  nodding  her  head  suspiciously.  "I  don't 
care  to  have  my  only  proof  destroyed." 

Philip  did  not  seem  to  take  her  meaning,  but  with 
the  daguerreotype  in  his  hand,  he  left  the  room. 

"  I  say,  mother,"  chuckled  Jonas,  his  freckled  face 
showing  his  enjoyment,  "  it's  a  good  joke  on  Phil, 
isn't  it  ?"  I  guess  he  won't  be  quite  so  uppish  after 
this." 


FHIL  '-8  SUDDEN  BESOL  UTION.  19 


CHAPTER  IIL 

phil's  sudden  resolution. 

WHEN  Phil  left  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Brent,  he 
felt  as  if  he  had  been  suddenly  transported 
to  a  new  world.  He  was  no  longer  Philip  Brent, 
and  the  worst  of  it  was  that  he  did  not  know  who  he 
was.  In  his  tumultuous  state  of  feeling,  however, 
one  thing  seemed  clear — his  prospects  were  wholly 
changed,  and  his  plans  for  the  future  also.  Mrs.  Brent 
had  told  him  that  he  was  wholly  dependent  upon 
her.  Well,  he  did  not  intend  to  remain  so.  His  home 
had  not  been  pleasant  at  the  best.  As  a  dependent 
upon  the  bounty  of  such  a  woman  it  would  be  worse. 
He  resolved  to  leave  home  and  strike  out  for  himself, 
not  from  any  such  foolish  idea  of  independence  as 
sometimes  leads  boys  to  desert  a  good  home  for  an 
uncertain  skirmish  with  the  world,  but  simply  be- 
cause he  felt  now  that  he  had  no  real  home. 

To  begin  with  he  would  need  money,  and  on  open- 
ing his  pocket-book  he  ascertained  that  his  available 
funds  consisted  of  only  a  dollar  and  thirty-seven 
cents.  That  wasn't  quite  enough  to  begin  the  world 
with.  But  he  had  other  resources.  He  owned  a  gun, 
which  a  friend  of  his  would  be  ready  to  take  off  his 


20  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

hands.  He  had  a  boat,  also,  which  he  could  prob* 
ably  sell. 

On  the  village  street  he  met  Eeuben  Gordon,  a 
young  journeyman  carpenter,  who  was  earning  good 
wages,  and  had  money  to  spare. 

"  How  are  you,  Phil,"  said  Reuben  in  a  friendly 
way. 

"  You  are  just  the  one  I  want  to  meet,"  said  Phil 
earnestly.  "  Didn't  you  tell  me  once  you  would  like 
to  buy  my  gun  ?" 

"  Tes.     Want  to  sell  it  ?" 

"  No,  I  don't ;  but  I  want  the  money  it  will  bring. 
So  I'U  seU  it  if  you'll  buy." 

"What  d'ye  want  for  it?"  asked  Reuben  cau- 
tiously. 

"  Six  dollars." 

"  Too  much.     I'll  give  five." 

"  You  can  have  it,"  said  Phil  after  a  pause.  "  How 
soon  can  you  let  me  have  the  money  ?" 

"  Bring  the  gun  round  to-night,  and  I'll  pay  you 
fDr  it." 

"  All  right.  Do  you  know  of  any  one  who  wants 
to  buy  a  boat  ?" 

"  What  ?     Going  to  sell  that,  too  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Seems  to  me  you're  closin'  up  business  ?"  said 
Reuben  shrewdly. 

"  So  I  am.     I'm  going  to  leave  Planktown." 

"  You  don't  say  ?  Well,  I  declare !  Where  are 
you  goin'  2" 


PHIL  '-S  8  UDDEN  BE80L  UTION.  21 

"  To  New  York,  I  guess." 

"  Got  any  prospect  there  ?" 

"Yes." 

This  was  not,  perhaps,  strictly  true^that  is,  Phil 
had  no  definite  prospect,  but  he  felt  that  there  must 
be  a  chance  in  a  large  city  like  Kew  York  for  any 
one  who  was  wilMng  to  work,  and  so  felt  measurably 
justified  in  saying  what  he  did. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  buyin'  a  boat,"  said  Reuben 
thoughtfully. 

Phil  pricked  up  his  ears  at  the  hint  of  a  possible 
customer, 

"  You'd  better  buy  mine,"  he  said  quickly  ;  "  I'll 
sell  it  cheap." 

"  How  cheap  ?" 

"  Ten  dollars." 

"  That's  too  much." 

"  It  cost  me  fifteen." 

"  But  it's  second-hand  now,  you  know,"  said  Reu- 
ben. 

"It's  just  as  good  as  new.  I'm  taking  off  five  dol- 
lars, though,  you  see." 

"  I  don't  think  I  want  it  enough  to  pay  ten  dol 
lars." 

"  What  will  you  give  ?" 

Reuben  finally  agreed  to  pay  seven  dollars  and 
seventy-five  cents,  after  more  or  less  bargaining,  and 
to  pay  the  money  that  evening  upon  delivery  of  tho 
goods. 


32  TEE  ERRAND  BO  7. 

"  I  don't  think  I've  got  anything  more  to  sell,"  said 
PMI  thoughtfully.  "  There's  my  skates,  but  they 
are  not  very  good.  I'll  give  them  to  Tommy  Kava- 
nagh.    He  can't  afford  to  buy  a  pair." 

Tommy  was  the  son  of  a  poor  widow,  and  was  very 
much  pleased  with  the  gift,  which  Phil  conveyed  to 
him  just  before  supper. 

Just  after  simper  he  took  his  gun  and  the  key  of 
his  boat  over  to  Reuben  Gordon,  who  thereupon 
gave  him  the  money  agreed  upon. 

"  Shall  I  tell  Mrs.  Brent  I  am  going  away  ?"  Phil 
said  to  himself,  "  or  shall  I  leave  a  note  for  her  ?" 

He  decided  to  announce  his  resolve  in  person.  To 
do  otherwise  would  seem  too  much  like  running 
away,  and  that  he  had  too  much  self-respect  to  do. 

So  in  the  evening,  after  his  return  from  Eeuben 
Gordon's,  he  said  to  Mrs.  Brent : 

"  I  think  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I'm  going  away 
to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Brent  looked  up  from  her  work,  and  her  cold 
gray  eyes  surveyed  Phil  with  curious  scrutiny. 

"  You  are  going  away !"  she  repMed.  "  Where  are 
you  going  ?" 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  to  New  York." 

"What  for?" 

"  Seek  my  fortune,  as  so  many  have  done  before 
me." 

"They  didn't  always  find  it!"  said  Mrs.  Brent 
with  a  cold  sneer.    " Is  there  any  other  reason?'" 


PHIL  \S  S UDDEN  RESOL  UTION.  23 

"  Yes ;  it's  chiefly  on  accoimt  of  what  you  told  me 
yesterday.  You  said  that  I  was  dependent  upon 
you." 

"  So  you  are." 

"  And  that  I  wasn't  even  entitled  to  the  name  of 
Brent." 

"  Yes,  I  said  it,  and  it's  true." 

"  Well,"  said  Phil,  "  I  don't  want  to  be  dependent 
upon  you.     I  prefer  to  earn  my  own  living." 

"  I  am  not  prepared  to  say  but  that  you  are  right. 
But  do  you  know  what  the  neighbors  will  say  ?" 

"  What  will  they  say  ?" 

"  That  I  drove  you  from  home." 

"  It  won't  be  true.  I  don't  pretend  to  enjoy  my 
home,  but  I  suppose  I  can  stay  on  here  if  I  like  ?" 

"  Yes,  you  can  stay." 

"  You  don't  object  to  my  going  ?" 

"  No,  if  it  is  understood  that  you  go  of  your  own 
accord." 

"  I  am  willing  enough  to  take  the  blame  of  it,  if 
there  is  any  blame." 

"  Very  well;  get  a  sheet  of  note-paper,  and  write 
at  my  direction." 

Phil  took  a  sheet  of  note-paper  from  his  father's 
desk,  and  sat  down  to  comply  with  Mrs.  Brent's  re- 
quest. 

She  dictated  as  follows : 

"  I  leare  home  at  my  own  wish,  but  with  the  con- 


24  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

sent  of  Mrs.  Brent,  to  seek  my  fortune.     It  is  wholly 
my  own  idea,  and  I  hold  no  one  else  responsible. 

"  Philip  Brent." 

"  You  may  as  well  keep  the  name  of  Brent,"  said 
JUS  step-mother,  as  you  have  no  other  that  you  know 
of." 

Phil  winced  at  those  cold  words.  It  was  not  pleas- 
ant to  reflect  that  this  was  so,  and  that  he  was 
wholly  ignorant  of  his  parentage. 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  Mrs.  Brent.  "  It  is  only 
eight  o'clock.  I  should  like  to  have  you  go  out  and 
caU  upon  some  of  those  with  whom  you  are  most  in- 
timate, and  tell  them  that  you  are  leaving  home 
voluntarily." 

"  I  will,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Perhaps  you  v\  ould  prefer  to  do  so  to-morrow." 

"  No ;  I  am  going  away  to-morrow  morning." 

"Yery  well." 

"Going  away  to-morrow  morning?"  repeated 
Jonas,  who  entered  the  room  at  that  moment. 

Phil's  plan  was  briefly  disclosed. 

"  Then  give  me  your  skates,"  said  Jonas. 

"  I  can't.    I've  given  them  to  Tommy  Kavanagh." 

"  That's  mean.  You  might  have  thought  of  me 
first,"  grumbled  Jonas. 

"  I  don't  know  why.  Tommy  Kavanagh  is  my 
friend  and  you  are  not." 

"  Anyway,  you  can  let  me  have  your  boat  and 
gun." 


PHIL  \3  S  UDDEN  RESOL  UTION.  25 

"  I  have  sold  them." 

"  That's  too  bad." 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  should  expect  them.  J 
needed  the  money  they  brought  me  to  pay  my  ex^ 
penses  till  I  get  work." 

"  I  will  pay  your  expenses  to  New  York  if  you 
wish,"  said  Mrs.  Brent. 

"  Thank  you ;  but  I  shall  have  money  enough," 
answered  Phil,  who  shrank  from  receiving  any  favor 
at  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Brent. 

"  As  you  please,  but  you  will  do  me  the  justice  to 
remember  that  I  offered  it." 

"  Thank  you.     I  shall  not^forget  it." 

"That  evening,  just  before  going  to  bed,  Mrs. 
Brent  opened  a  trunk  and  drew  from  it  a  folded 
paper. 

She  read  as  follows — for  it  was  her  husband's 
will: 

"  To  the  boy  generally  known  as  Philip  Brent, 
and  supposed,  though  incorrectly,  to  be  my  son,  I 
bequeath  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars,  and  direct 
the  same  to  be  paid  over  to  any  one  whom  he  may 
select  as  guardian,  to  hold  in  trust  for  him  till  he 
attains  the  age  of  twenty-one." 

"  He  need  never  know  of  this,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  to 
herself  in  a  low  tone.     "  I  "will  save  it  for  Jonas." 

She  held  the, paper  a  moment,  as  if  undecided 
whether  to  destroy  it,  but  finally  put  it  carefully 


26  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

back  in  the  secret  hiding-place  from  which  she  had 
taken  it. 

"He  is  leaving  home  of  his  own  accord,"  she 
whispered.  "Henceforth  he  will  probably  keep 
away.  That  suits  me  well,  but  no  one  can  say  I 
drove  him  to  if* 


MR.  LIONEL  LAKE.  27 


CHAPTER  IV. 

ME.       LIONEL      LAKE. 

SIX  MONTHS  before  it  might  have  cost  Philip  a 
pang  to  leave  home.  Then  his  father  was  liv- 
ing, and  from  him  the  boy  had  never  received  aught 
but  kindness.  Even  his  step-mother,  though  she 
secretly  disliked  him,  did  not  venture  to  show  it, 
and  secure  in  the  affections  of  his  supposed  father, 
he  did  not  trouble  hunself  as  to  whether  Mrs.  Brent 
liked  him  or  not.  As  for  Jonas,  he  was  cautioned 
by  his  mother  not  to  get  himself  into  trouble  by 
treating  Phil  badly,  and  the  boy,  who  knew  on 
which  side  his  interests  lay,  faithfully  obeyed.  It 
was  only  after  the  death  of  Mr.  Brent  that  both 
Jonas  and  his  mother  changed  their  course,  and 
thought  it  safe  to  snub  Philip. 

Planktown  was  seventy-five  miles  distant  from 
New  York,  and  the  fare  was  two  dollars  and  a  quar- 
ter. 

This  was  rather  a  large  sum  to  pay,  considering 
Phil's  scanty  fund,  but  he  wished  to  get  to  the  great 
city  as  soon  as  possible,  and  he  decided  that  it  would 
be  actually  cheaper  to  ride  than  to  walk,  consider- 
ing that  he  would  have  to  buy  his  meals  on  the  way. 


98  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

He  took  his  seat  in  the  cars,  placing  a  valise  full 
of  underclothes  on  the  seat  next  him.  The  train  was 
not  very  full,  and  the  seat  beside  him  did  not  appear 
to  be  required. 

Mile  after  mile  they  sped  on  the  way,  and  Phil 
looked  from  the  window  with  interest  at  the  towns 
through  which  they  passed.  There  are  very  few 
boys  of  his  age — sixteen — who  do  not  like  to  travel 
in  the  cars.  Limited  as  were  his  means,  and  uncer- 
tain as  were  his  prospects,  Phil  felt  not  only  cheer- 
ful, but  actually  buoyant,  as  every  minute  took  him 
farther  away  from  Plankto"\vn,  and  so  nearer  the 
city  where  he  hoped  to  make  a  living  at  the  outset, 
and  perhaps  his  fortune  in  the  end. 

Presently — perhaps  half  way  on — a  young  man, 
rather  stylishly  dressed,  came  into  the  car.  It  was 
not  at  a  station,  and  therefore  it  seemed  clear  that 
he  came  from  another  car. 

He  halted  when  he  reached  the  seat  which  Phil 
occupied. 

Our  hero,  observing  that  his  glance  rested  on  his 
ralise,  politely  removed  it,  saying : 

"  "Would  you  like  to  sit  down  here,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  answered  the  young  man,  and 
sank  into  the  seat  beside  Phil. 

"  Sorry  to  mconvenience  you,"  he  said,  with  a 
glance  at  the  bag. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all,"  returned  Phil.  "  I  only  put  the 
valise  on  the  seat  till  it  was  wanted  by  some  passen- 
ger." 


MR.  LIONEL  LAKE.  29 

"  You  are  more  considerate  than  some  passengers," 
observed  the  young  man.  "  In  the  next  car  is  a 
woman,  an  elderly  party,  who  is  taking  up  three  ex- 
tra seats  to  accommodate  her  bags  and  boxes." 

"  That  seems  rather  selfish,"  remarked  Phil. 

"  Selfish  !  I  should  say  so.  I  paused  a  minute  at 
her  seat  as  I  passed  along,  and  she  was  terribly 
afraid  I  wanted  to  sit  down.  She  didn't  offer  to 
move  anything,  though,  as  you  have.  I  stopped 
long  enough  to  make  her  feel  uncomfortable,  and 
then  passed  on.  I  doil't  think  I  have  fared  any  the 
worse  for  doing  so.  I  would  rather  sit  beside  you 
than  her." 

"  Am  I  to  consider  that  a  compliment?"  asked  Phil, 
smiling. 

"  Well,  yes,  if  you  choose.  Not  that  it  is  saying 
much  to  call  you  more  agreeable  company  than  the 
old  party  alluded  to.   Are  you  going  to  New  York  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Live  there  ?" 

"  I  expect  to  live  there." 

"  Brought  up  in  the  country,  perhaps  ?" 

"  Yes,  in  Planktown." 

"  Oh,  Planktown !  I've  heard  it's  a  nice  place,  but 
never  visited  it.     Got  any  folks  V 

Phil  hesitated.  In  the  light  of  the  revelation  that 
had  been  made  to  him  by  Mrs.  Brent,  he  did  not 
know  how  to  answer.  However,  there  was  no  call 
to  answer  definitely. 


30  THE  ERRAND  BOT, 

"  Not  many,"  he  said. 

"  Goin'  to  school  in  New  York  ?" 

"No." 

"To  college,  perhaps.  I've  got  a  cousin  in  Colum- 
bia College." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  enough  to  go  to  college,"  said 
Phil ;  "  but  I  only  know  a  little  Latin,  and  no  Greek 
at  aU." 

"  "Well,  I  never  cared  much  about  Latin  or  Greek, 
myself.  I  presume  you  are  thinking  about  a  business 
position  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  shall  try  to  get  a  place." 

"  You  may  find  a  little  time  necessary  to  find  one. 
However,  you  are,  no  doubt,  able  to  pay  your  board 
for  awhile." 

"  For  a  short  time,"  said  Phil. 

"  "Well,  I  may  be  able  to  help  you  to  a  place.  I 
know  a  good  many  prominent  business  men," 

"  I  should  be  grateful  to  you  for  any  help  of  that 
kind,"  said  Phil,  deciding  that  he  was  in  luck  to 
meet  with  such  a  friend. 

"  Don't  mention  it.  I  have  had  to  struggle  my- 
self— in  earher  dayc — though  at  present  I  am  well 
fixed.     "What  is  your  name  ?" 

"  PhiHp  Brent." 

"Good!  My  name  is  Lionel  Lake.  Sorry  I  haven't 
got  any  cards.  Perhaps  I  may  have  one  in  my 
pocket-book.    Let  me  see !" 

Mr.  Lake  opened  his  porte-monnaie  and  uttered  an 
exclamation  of  surprise. 


MB.  LIONEL  LAKE.  31 

"  By  Jove !"  lie  said,  "  I  am  in  a  fix." 

Phil  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 

"  I  took  out  a  roll  of  bills  at  the  house  of  my  aunt, 
where  I  stayed  last  night,"  explained  Mr.  Lake,  "  and 
must  have  neglected  to  replace  them." 

"I  hope  you  have  not  lost  them,"  said  Phil 
politely. 

"  Oh,  no ;  my  aunt  will  find  them  and  take  care  of 
them  for  me,  so  that  I  shall  get  them  back.  The 
trouble  is  that  I  am  left  temporarily  without  funds. 

"  But  you  can  get  money  in  the  city,"  suggested 
Phil. 

"  No  doubt ;  only  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  stay 
over  a  train  ten  miles  short  of  the  city." 

Mr.  Lionel  Lake  seemed  very  much  perplexed. 

"  If  I  knew  some  one  in  the  cars,"  he  said  reflect- 
ively. 

It  did  occur  to  Phil  to  offer  to  loan  him  some- 
thing, but  the  scantiness  of  his  own  resources  warned 
him  that  it  would  not  be  prudent,  so  he  remained 
silent. 

Finally  Mr.  Lake  appeared  to  have  an  idea. 

"  Have  you  got  five  doUars,  PhiHp  ?"  he  said  famil- 
iarly. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Philip  slowly, 

"  Then  I'll  make  a  proposal.  Lend  it  to  me  and  I 
will  give  you  this  ring  as  security.  It  is  worth 
twenty-five  dollars  easily. 

He  drew  from  his  vest-pocket  a  neat  gold  ring, 
with  some  sort  of  a  stone  in  the  setting. 


32  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  There!"  said  Mr.  Lake,  "  I'll  give  you  this  ring 
and  my  address,  and  you  can  bring  it  to  my  office 
to-morrow  morning.  I'U  give  you  back  the  five  dol- 
IstJ-s  and  one  dollar  for  the  accommodation.  That's 
good  interest,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  But  I  might  keep  the  ring  and  sell  it,"  suggested 
Phil. 

"  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid.  You  look  honest.  I  will 
trust  you,"  said  the  young  man,  in  a  careless,  off- 
hand manner.     "  Say,  is  it  a  bargain  ?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Phil. 

It  occurred  to  him  that  he  could  not  earn  a  dollar 
more  easily.  Besides,  he  would  be  doing  a  favor  to 
this  very  polite  young  man. 

"AU  right,  then!" 

"  Five  doUars  of  Phil's  scanty  hoard  was  handed 
to  Mr.  Lake,  who,  in  return,  gave  Phil  the  ring, 
which  he  put  on  his  finger. 

He  also  handed  Phil  a  scrap  of  paper,  on  which  he 
penciled: 

"  Lionel  Lake,  No.  237  Broadway." 

"  I'm  ever  so  much  obliged,"  he  said.  "  Good-by. 
I'get  out  at  the  next  station." 

Phil  was  congratulating  himself  on  his  good  stroke 
of  business,  when  the  conductor  entered  the  car,  fol- 
lowed by  a  young  lady.  When  they  came  to  wheie 
Phil  was  seated,  the  young  lady  said : 

"  That  is  my  ring  on  that  boy's  finger  I" 


MR.  LIONEL  LAKE.  33 

"  Aha !  we've  found  the  thief,  then !"  said  the  con- 
ductor. "  Boy,  give  up  the  ring  you  stole  from  this 
young  lady !" 

As  he  spoke  he  placed  his  hand  on  Phil's  shoulder. 

"  Stole !"  repeated  Phil,  gasping.   "  I  don't  under 
stand  you." 

"  Oh,  yea,  you  do  1"  said  the  conductor  roughly. 


34  S'ME  ERRAND  £07. 


CHAPTEK  V. 

AN   OVEKBEAEING   CONDUCTOR. 

NO  MATTEK  how  honest  a  boy  may  be,  a  sud 
den  charge  of  theft  is  likely  to  make  him 
look  confused  and  guilty. 

Such  was  the  case  with  Phil. 

"  I  assure  you,"  he  said  earnestly,  "  that  I  did  not 
steal  this  ring." 

"  "Where  did  y^ou  get  it,  then  ?"  demanded  the  con- 
ductor roughly. 

He  was  one  of  those  men  who,  in  any  position, 
wiU  make  themselves  disagreeable.  Moreover,  he 
was  a  man  who  always  thought  ill  of  others,  when 
there  was  any  chance  of  doing  so.  In  fact,  he  pre- 
ferred to  credit  his  fellows  with  bad  qualities  rather 
than  with  good. 

"It  was  handed  me  by  a  young  man  who  just 
left  the  car,"  said  Phil. 

"That's  a  likely  story,"  sneered  the  conductor. 
"  Young  men  are  not  in  the  habit  of  giving  valu- 
able rings  to  strangers." 

"  He  did  not  give  it  to  me.  I  advanced  him  fiv» 
doUars  on  it." 


AN  OVERBEARING  CONDUCTOR.  -JS 

"  What  was  the  3''ouiig  man's  name  ?"  asked  the 
conductor  incredulously. 

"  There's  his  name  and  address,"  answered  Phil, 
drawing  from  his  pocket  the  paper  handed  him  bj 
Mr.  Lake. 

'■'-  Lionel  Lake,  237  Broadway,"  repeated  the  con- 
ductor. "  If  there  is  any  such  person,  which  I  very 
much  doubt,  you  are  probably  a  confederate  of  his." 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  this,"  returned  Phil 
indignantly. 

"  I  haven't,  haven't  I  ?"  snapped  the  conductor. 
"  Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  do  with  you  ?" 

"  If  you  wish  me  to  return  the  ring  to  this  young 
lady,  I  will  do  so,  if  she  is  positive  it  is  hers." 

"  Yes,  you  must  do  that,  but  it  won't  get  you  out 
of  trouble.  I  shall  hand  you  over  to  a  policeman  as 
soon  as  we  reach  New  York," 

Phil  was  certainly  dismayed,  for  he  felt  that  it 
might  be  diflftcult  for  him  to  prove  that  he  came 
honestly  in  possession  of  the  ring. 

"  The  fact  is,"  added  the  conductor,  "  your  story 
is  too  thin." 

"Conductor,"  said  a  new  voice,  "you  are  doing 
the  boy  an  injustice." 

The  speaker  was  an  old  man  with  gray  hair,  but 
of  form  still  robust,  though  he  was  at  least  sixty 
five.     He  sat  in  the  seat  just  behind  Phil. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Phil  gratefully. 

"  I  understand  my  business,"  said  the  conductor 


36  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

impertinently,    "and  don't  need  any  instructions 
from  you." 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  in  a  very 
dignified  tone,  "I  have  usually  found  officials  of 
your  class  polite  and  gentlemanly,  but  you  are  an 
exception." 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  conductor  rudely. 
"  What  right  have  you  to  put  in  your  oar  ?" 

"  As  to  who  I  am,  I  will  answer  you  b}^  and  by. 
In  reference  to  the  boy,  I  have  to  say  that  his  story 
is  correct.  I  heard  the  whole  conversation  between 
him  and  the  young  man  from  whom  he  received  the 
ring,  and  I  can  testify  that  he  has  told  the  truth." 

"  At  any  rate  he  has  received  stolen  property." 

"  Kot  knowing  it  to  be  stolen.  The  young  man 
was  an  entire  stranger  to  him,  and  though  I  sus- 
pected that  he  was  an  unscrupulous  adventurer,  the 
boy  has  not  had  experience  enough  to  judge  men." 

"Yery  weU.  If  he's  innocent  he  can  prove  it 
when  he's  brought  to  trial,"  said  the  conductor. 
"  As  for  you,  sir,  it's  none  of  your  business." 

"  Young  man,  you  asked  me  a  short  time  since 
who  I  am.    Do  you  want  to  know  ?" 

"  I  am  not  v^y  particular." 

"  Then,  sir,  I  have  to  inform  you  that  I  am  Richard 
Grant,  the  president  of  this  road." 

The  conductor's  face  was  a  curious  and  interesting 
study  when  he  heard  this  announcement.  He  knew 
that  the  old  man  whom  he  h^d  insulted  had  a  right 


AN  OVERBEARING  CONDUCTOR.  3? 

to  discharge  him  from  his  position,  and  bully  as  he 
had  shown  himself,  he  was  now  inclined  to  humble 
himself  to  save  his  place. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  he  said  in  a  composed 
tone.  "  If  I  had  known  who  you  were  I  wouldn't 
have  spoken  as  I  did." 

"  I  had  a  claim  to  be  treated  like  a  gentleman, 
even  if  I  had  no  connection  with  the  road,"  he  said. 

"  If  you  say  the  boy's  all  right,  I  won't  interfere 
with  him,"  continued  the  conductor. 

"  My  testimony  would  clear  him  from  any  chai-ge 
that  might  be  brought  against  him,"  said  the  presi- 
dent. "  I  saw  him  enter  the  car,  and  know  he  has 
had  no  opportunity  to  take  the  ring." 

"  If  he'U  give  me  back  the  ring,  that's  all  I  want," 
said  the  young  lady. 

"  That  I  am  wiUing  to  do,  though  I  lose  five  dol- 
lars by  it,"  said  Philip. 

"  Do  so,  my  boy,"  said  the  president.  "  I  take  it 
for  granted  that  the  young  lady's  claim  is  a  just 
one." 

Upon  this  Philip  drew  the  ring  from  his  finger 
and  handed  it  to  the  young  lady,  who  went  back  to 
the  car  where  her  friends  were  sitting. 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  said  the  conductor  anxiously,  "  that 
you  won't  be  prejudiced  against  me  on  account  of 
this  affair." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  can't  help  feeling  preju- 
diced against  you,"  returned  the  president  dryly; 


38  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  but  I  won't  allow  this  feeling  to  injure  you  if,  upon 
inquiring,  I  find  that  you  are  otherwise  an  efiicient 
officer." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  I  am  glad  that  my  presence  has  saved  this  boy 
from  being  the  victim  of  an  injustice.  -  Let  this  be  a 
lesson  to  you  in  future." 

The  conductor  walked  away,  looking  quite  chop- 
fallen,  and  Phihp  turned  to  his  new  friend. 

"  I  am  very  much  indebted  to  you,  sir,"  he  said. 
"  But  for  you  I  should  have  found  myself  in  serious 
trouble." 

"  I  am  glad  to  have  prevented  an  injustice,  my  lad. 
I  am  sorry  I  could  not  save  you  from  loss  also.  That 
enterprising  rogue  has  gone  off  with  five  dollars  be- 
longing to  you.  I  hope  the  loss  will  not  be  a  serious 
one  to  you." 

"  It  was  more  than  a  third  part  of  my  capital,  sir," 
said  Phil,  rather  ruefully. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  suppose,  however,  you 
are  not  dependent  upon  your  own  resources  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  am." 

"  Have  you  no  parents,  then  ?"  asked  Mr.  Grant, 
with  interest. 

"  No,  sir ;  that  is,  I  have  a  step-mother." 

"  And  what  are  your  plans,  if  you  are  ^villing  to 
tell  me?" 

"I  am  going  to  New  York  to  try  to  make  a 
living." 


AN  OVBRBEARINQ  CONDUCTOR.  39 

"  I  cannot  commend  your  plan,  my  young  friend, 
unless  there  is  a  good  reason  for  it." 

"  I  think  there  is  a  good  reason  for  it,  sir." 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  run  away  from  home  ?" 

"No,  sir;  I  left  home  with  my  step-mother's 
knowledge  and  consent." 

"  That  is  welL  I  don't  want  wholly  to  discourage 
you,  and  so  I  will  tell  you  that  I,  too,  came  to  New 
York  at  your  age  with  the  same  object  in  view,  with 
less  money  in  my  pocket  than  you  possess." 

"  And  now  you  are  the  president  of  a  railroad !" 
said  Phil  hopefully. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  had  a  hard  struggle  before  I  reached 
that  position." 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  hard  work,  sir." 

"  That  is  in  your  favor.  Perhaps  you  may  be  as 
lucky  as  I  have  been.  You  may  caU  at  my  office  in 
the  city,  if  you  feel  inclined," 

As  Mr.  Grant  spoke  he  put  in  Phil's  hand  a  card 
bearing  his  name  and  address,  in  "Wall  Street. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Phil  gratefully.  "  I  shall 
be  glad  to  call.     I  may  need  advice." 

"  If  3^ou  seek  advice  and  follow  it  you  will  be  an 
exception  to  the  general  rule,"  said  the  president, 
smiUng.  "  One  thing  more — ^you  have  met  with  a 
loss  which,  to  you,  is  a  serious  one.  AUow  me  to 
bear  it,  and  accept  this  bill." 

"  But,  sir,  it  is  not  right  that  you  should  bear  it," 
commenced  Phil.     Then,  looking  at  the  bill,  he  said : 


40  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Haven't  you  made  a  mistake  ?  This  is  a  ^e/wiollar 
biU." 

"I  know  it.  Accept  the  other  five  as  an  evidence 
of  my  interest  in  you.  By  the  way,  I  go  to  Phila- 
delphia and  "Washington  before  my  return  to  New 
York,  and  shall  not  return  for  three  or  four  days. 
After  that  time  you  wiU  find  me  at  my  office. 

"  I  am  in  luck  after  all,"  thought  Phil  cheerfully. 
"  in  spite  of  the  mean  trick  of  Mr.  Lionel  Lake." 


SIQNOB  VMLANDO.  41 


CHAPTER  Yl. 

8IGNOK     OKLANDO, 

SO  PHIL  reached  New  York  in  very  fair  spirits. 
He  found  himself,  thanks  to  the  liberality  of 
Mr.  Grant,  in  a  better  financial  position  than  when 
he  left  home. 

As  he  left  the  depot  and  found  himself  in  the 
streets  of  New  York,  he  felt  Hke  a  stranger  upon 
the  threshold  of  a  new  life.  He  knew  almost  noth- 
ing about  the  great  city  he  had  entered,  and  was  at 
a  loss  where  to  seek  for  lodgings. 

"  It's  a  cold  day,"  said  a  sociable  voice  at  his  elbow. 

Looking  around,  Phil  saw  that  the  speaker  was  a 
saUow-oomplexioned  young  man,  with  black  hair  and 
mustache,  a  loose  black  felt  hat,  crushed  at  the 
crown,  giving  him  rather  a  rakish  look. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil  politely. 

"  Stranger  in  the  city,  I  expect  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Never  mind  the  sir.  I  ain't  used  to  ceremony. 
I  am  Signor  Orlando." 

"  Signor  Orlando  !"  repeated  Phil,  rather  puzzled. 
"  Are  you  an  Italian  ?" 


43  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Well,  yes,"  returned  Signor  Orlando,  -with  a 
wink,  "  that's  what  I  am,  or  what  people  think  me ; 
but  I  was  born  in  Yermont,  and  am  haK  Irish  and 
half  Yankee." 

"  How  did  you  come  by  your  name,  then  ?" 

"  I  took  it,"  answered  his  companion.  "  You  see, 
dear  boy,  I'm  a  professional." 

« A  what?" 

"A  professional — singer  and  clog-dancer.  I  be- 
hove I  am  pretty  well  known  to  the  public,"  con- 
tinued Signor  Orlando  complacently.  "Last  sum- 
mer I  traveled  with  Jenks  &  Brown's  circus.  Of 
course  you've  heard  of  them.  Through  the  wintef 
I  am  employed  at  Bowerman's  Yarieties,  in  the  Bow- 
ery. I  appear  every  night,  and  at  two  matinees 
weekly." 

It  must  be  confessed  that  PhU  was  considerably 
impressed  by  the  professional  character  of  Signor 
Orlando.  He  had  never  met  an  actor,  or  public  per- 
former of  any  description,  and  was  disposed  to  have 
a  high  respect  for  a  man  who  filled  such  a  conspicu- 
ous position.  There  was  not,  to  be  sure,  anything 
very  impressive  about  Signor  Orlando's  appearance. 
His  face  did  not  indicate  talent,  and  his  dress  was 
shabby.  But  for  all  that  he  was  a  man  familiar  with 
the  pubhc — a  man  of  gifts. 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  on  the  stage,"  said  Phil 
respectfully. 

"  So  you  shall,  my  dear  boy — so  you  shall.  I'll  get 


SIGNOB  ORLANDO.  43 

you  a  pass  from  Mr.  Bowerman.  Which  way  are 
you  going  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  answered  Phil,  puzzled,  "I 
should  like  to  find  a  cheap  boarding-house,  but  I  don't 
know  the  city." 

"  I  do,"  answered  Signor  Orlando  promptly.  "  Why 
not  come  to  my  house  ?" 

"  Have  you  a  house  ?" 

"  I  mean  my  boarding-house.  It's  some  distance 
away.     Suppose  we  take  a  horse-car  ?" 

"All  right!"  answered  Phil,  reh'eved  to  find  a 
guide  in  the  labyrinth  of  the  great  city. 

"  I  live  on  Fifth  Street,  near  the  Bowery — a  very 
convenient  location,"  said  Orlando,  if  we  may  take 
the  liberty  to  call  him  thus. 

"  Fifth  Avenue  ?"  asked  Phil,  who  did  not  know 
the  difference. 

"  Oh,  no ;  that's  a  peg  above  my  style.  I  am  not  a 
Vanderbilt,  nor  yet  an  Astor." 

"  Is  the  price  moderate  ?"  asked  Phil  anxiously. 
"  I  must  make  my  money  last  as  long  as  I  can,  for  I 
don't  know  when  I  shall  get  a  place." 

"  To  be  sure.  You  might  room  with  me,  only  I've 
got  a  haU  bedroom.  Perhaps  we  might  manage  it, 
though." 

"  I  think  I  should  prefer  a  room  by  myself,"  said 
Phil,  who  reflected  that  Signor  Orlando  was  a 
stranger  as  yet. 

**  Oh,  well,  I'U  speak  to  the  old  lady,  and  I  guess 


44  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

she  can  accommodate  you  with  a  hall  bedroom  like 
mine  on  the  third  floor/' 

"  What  should  I  have  to  pay  ?" 

"A  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  week,  and  you  can  get 
your  meals  where  you  please." 

"  1  think  that  will  suit  me,"  said  Phil  thought- 
funy. 

After  leaving  the  car,  a  minute's  walk  brought 
them  to  a  shabby  three-story  house  of  brick.  There 
was  a  stable  opposite,  and  a  group  of  dirty  children 
were  playing  in  front  of  it. 

"  This  is  where  I  hang  out,"  said  Signor  Orlando 
cheerfully.  "  As  the  poet  says,  there  is  no  place  hke 
home." 

If  this  had  been  true  it  was  not  much  to  be  re- 
gretted, since  the  home  in  question  was  far  from  at- 
tractive. 

Signor  Orlando  rang  the  bell,  and  a  stout  woman 
of  German  aspect  answered  the  caU. 

"  So  you  haf  come  back,  Herr  Orlando,"  said  this 
lady.  "  I  hc^e  you  haf  brought  them  two  weeks' 
rent  you  owe  me." 

"  All  in  good  time,  Mrs.  Schlessinger,"  said  Or- 
lando. "  But  you  see  I  have  brought  some  one  with 
me." 

"  Is  he  your  bruder  now  ?"  asked  the  lady. 

"No,  he  is  not,  imfortunately  for  me.  His  name 
is " 

Orlando  coughed. 


8IGN0R  ORLANDO.  45 

"  Philip  Brent,"  suggested  our  hero. 

"  Just  so— Philip  Brent." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  Mr.  Prent,"  said  the  landlady. 
''  And  is  he  an  actor  like  you,  Signor  Orlando  ?" 

"  Not  yet.  "We  don't  know  what  may  happen. 
But  he  comes  on  business,  Mrs.  Schlessinger.  He 
wants  a  room." 

The  landlady  brightened  up.  She  had  two  rooms 
vacant,  and  a  new  lodger  was  a  godsend. 

"  I  vill  show  Mr.  Prent  what  rooms  I  haf,"  she 
said.     "  Come  up-stairs,  Mr.  Prent." 

The  good  woman  toiled  up  the  staircase  panting, 
for  she  was  asthmatic,  and  Phil  followed.  The 
interior  of  the  house  was  as  dingy  as  the  exterior, 
and  it  was  quite  dark  on  the  second  landing. 

She  threw  open  the  door  of  a  back  room,  which, 
being  lower  than  the  hall,  was  reached  by  a  step. 

"  There !"  said  she,  pointing  to  the  faded  carpet, 
rumpled  bed,  and  cheap  pine  bureau,  with  the  httle 
six-by-ten  looking-glass  surmounting  it.  "  This  is  a 
peautiful  room  for  a  single  gentleman,  or  even  for  a 
man  and  his  wife." 

"  My  friend,  Mr.  Brent,  is  not  married,"  said  Sig- 
nor Orlando  waggishly. 

Phil  laughed. 

"  You  will  have  your  shoke,  Signor  Orlando,"  said 
Mrs.  Schlessinger. 

"  "What  is  the  price  of  this  room  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"Three  dollars  a  week,  Mr.  Prent.     I  ouffht  to 


46  TEE  ERRAND  EOT, 

have  four,  but  since  you  are  a  steady  young  gentle- 
^man " 

"  How  does  she  know  that?"  Phil  wondered. 

"  Since  you  are  a  steady  young  gentleman,  and  a 
friend  of  Signor  Orlando,  I  will  not  ask  you  full 
price." 

"  That  is  more  than  I  can  afford  to  pay,"  said 
Phil,  shaking  his  head. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  show  Mr.  Brent  the  hall 
bedroom  over  mine,"  suggested  the  signor. 

Mrs.  Schlessinger  toiled  up  another  staircase,  the 
two  new  acquaintances  following  her.  She  threw 
open  the  door  of  one  of  those  depressing  cells  known 
in  New  York  as  a  hall  bedroom.  It  was  about  five 
feet  wide  and  eight  feet  long,  and  was  nearly  filled 
up  by  a  cheap  bedstead,  covered  by  a  bed  about  two 
inches  thick,  and  surmounted  at  the  head  by  a  con- 
sumptive-looking pillow.  The  paper  was  torn  from 
the  walls  in  places.  There  was  one  rickety  chair,, 
and  a  wash-stand  which  bore  marks  of  extreme  an- 
tiquity. 

"  This  is  a  very  neat  room  for  a  single  gentleman," 
remarked  Mrs.  Schlessinger. 

Phil's  spirits  fell  as  he  surveyed  what  was  to  be 
his  future  home.  It  was  a  sad  contrast  to  his  neat, 
comfortable  room  at  home. 

"Is  this  room  hke  yours,  Signor  Orlando?"  he 
asked  faintly. 

"  As  like  as  two  peas,"  answered  Orlando. 


8I0N0R  ORLANDO.  47 

'* "Would  you  recommend  me  to  take  it?" 

"  You  couldn't  do  better." 

How  could  the  signor  answer  otherwise  in  pres- 
ence of  a  landlady  to  whom  he  owed  two  weeks' 
rent?" 

"  Then,"  said  Phil,  with  a  secret  shadder,  "  I'll 
take  it  if  the  rent  is  satisfactory." 

"  A  dollar  and  a  quarter  a  week,"  said  Mrs.  Schles. 
singer  promptly. 

"  I'U  take  it  for  a  week."  ""^ 

"  You  won't  mind  paying  in  advance  ?"  suggested 
the  landlady.     "  I  pay  my  own  rent  in  advance." 

Phil's  answer  was  to  draw  a  dollar  and  a  quarter 
from  his  purse  and  pass  it  to  his  landlady. 

"  I'U  take  possession  now,"  said  our  hero.  "  Can 
I  have  some  water  to  wash  my  face  ?" 

Mrs.  Schlessinger  was  evidently  surprised  that 
any  one  should  want  to  wash  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  but  made  no  objections. 

When  Phil  had  washed  his  face  and  hands,  he 
went  out  with  Signor  Orlando  to  dine  at  a  restaurant 
on  the  Bowery. 


48  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 


CHAPTER  VIL 

bowerman's   varieties. 

THE  RESTAURANT  to  which  he  was  taken  by 
Signor  Orlando  was  thronged  with  patrons,  for 
it  was  one  o'clock.  On  the  whole,  they  did  not  ap- 
pear to  belong  to  the  highest  social  rank,  though 
they  were  doubtless  respectable.  The  table-cloths 
were  generally  soiled,  and  the  waiters  had  a  greasy 
look.  Phil  said  nothing,  but  he  did  not  feel  quite  so 
hungry  as  before  he  entered. 

The  signor  found  two  places  at  one  of  the  tables, 
and  they  sat  down.  Phil  examined  a  greasy  bill  of 
fare  and  found  that  he  could  obtain  a  plate  of  meat 
for  ten  cents.  This  included  bread  and  butter,  and 
a  dish  of  mashed  potato.  A  cup  of  tea  would  be 
five  cents  additional. 

"  I  can  afford  fifteen  cents  for  a  meal,"  he  thought, 
and  called  for  a  plate  of  roast  beef. 

"  Corn  beef  and  cabbage  for  me,"  said  the  signor. 
"It's  very  filling,"  he  remarked  aside  to  Phil. 
"They  won't  give  you  but  a  mouthful  of  beef." 

So  it  proved,  but  the  quality  was  such  that  Phil 
did  not  care  for  more.  He  ordered  a  piece  of  apple 
pie  afterward,  feeling  still  hungry. 


SOWBEMAK'^S  VARIETIES.  49 

"  I  see  you're  bound  to  have  a  square  meal,"  said 
tlie  signor. 

After  Phil  had  had  it,  he  was  bound  to  confess 
that  he  did  not  feel  uncomf ortablj  full.  Yet  he  had 
spent  twice  as  much  as  the  signor,  who  dispensed 
with  the  tea  and  pie  as  superfluous  luxuries. 

In  the  evening  Signor  Orlando  bent  his  steps  to- 
ward Bowerman's  Varieties. 

"  I  hope  in  a  day  or  two  to  get  a  complimentary 
ticket  for  you,  Mr.  Brent,"  he  said. 

"  How  much  is  the  ticket  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"Fifteen  cents.  Best  reserved  seats  twenty-five 
cents.' 

"  I  believe  I  will  be  extravagant  for  once,"  said 
Phil,  "  and  go  at  my  own  expense." 

"Good!"  said  the  signor  huskily.  "Tou'U  feel 
repaid  Pll  be  bound.  Bowerman  always  gives  the 
public  their  money's  worth.  The  performance 
begins  at  eight  o'clock  and  won't  be  out  until  half- 
past  eleven." 

"  Less  than  five  cents  an  hour,"  commented  Phil. 

"  "What  a  splendid  head  you've  got !"  said  Signor 
Orlando  admiringly.  "  I  couldn't  have  worked  that 
up.     Figures  ain't  my  province." 

It  seemed  to  Phil  ratner  a  slender  cause  for  com- 
pHment,  but  he  said  nothing,  since  it  seemed  clear 
that  the  computation  was  beyond  his  companion's 
ability. 

As  to  the  performance,  it  was  not  refined,  nor  was 


50  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

the  talent  employed  first-class.  Still  Phil  enjoyed 
himself  after  a  fashion.  He  had  never  had  it  in  his 
power  to  attend  many  amusements,  and  this  was 
new  to  him.  He  naturally  looked  with  interest  for 
the  appearance  of  his  new  friend  and  fellow-lodger. 

Signor  Orlando  appeared,  dressed  in  gorgeous 
array,  sang  a  song  which  did  credit  to  ■*"'  loudness 
of  his  voice  rather  than  its  quality,  and  ended  by  a 
noisy  clog-dance  which  e]'?ited  much  applause  from 
the  boys  in  the  gallery,  who  shared  the  evening's 
entertainment  for  the  moderate  sum  of  ten  cents. 

The  signor  was  called  back  to  the  stage.  He 
bowed  his  thanks  and  gave  another  dance.  Then  he 
was  permitted  to  retire.  As  this  finished  his  part  of 
the  entertainment  he  afterwai'd  came  around  in 
citizen's  dress,  and  tx)ok  a  seat  in  the  auditorium 
beside  Phil. 

"How  did  you  like  me,  Mr.  Brent?"  he  asked 
complacently. 

"  I  thought  you  did  well,  Signor  Orlando.  You 
were  much  applauded." 

"  Yes,  the  audience  is  very  loyal,"  said  the  proud 
performer. 

Two  half-grown  boys  heard  Phil  pronounce  the 
name  of  his  companion,  and  they  gazed  awe-stricken 
at  the  famous  man. 

"  That's  Signor  Orlando !"  whispered  one  of  the 
others. 

"  I  know  it."  was  the  reply. 


BOWERMAN'S  VARIETIES.  51 

"  Such  is  fame,"  said  the  Signor,  in  a  pleased,  tone 
to  Phil.     "  People  point  me  out  on  the  streets." 

"  Very  gratifying,  no  doubt,"  said  our  hero,  but  it 
occurred  to  him  that  he  would  not  care  to  be  pointed 
out  as  a  performer  at  Bowerman's.  Signor  Orlando, 
however,  well-pleased  with  himself,  didn't  doubt 
that  Phil  was  impressed  by  his  popularity,  and  per- 
haps even  envied  it. 

They  didn't  stay  till  the  entertainment  was  over. 
It  was,  of  course,  familiar  to  the  signor,  and  Phil 
felt  tired  and  sleepy,  for  he  had  passed  a  part  of  the 
afternoon  in  exploring  the  city,  and  had  walked  in 
all  several  miles. 

He  went  back  to  his  lodging-house,  opened  the 
door  with  a  pass-key  which  Mrs.  Schlessinger  had 
given  him,  and  climbing  to  his  room  in  the  third  story, 
undressed  and  deposited  himself  in  bed. 

The  bed  was  far  from  luxurious.  A  thin  pallet 
rested  on  slats,  so  thin  that  he  could  feel  the  slats 
through  it,  and  the  covering  was  insufficient.  The 
latter  deficiency  he  made  up  by  throwing  his  ovei*- 
coat  over  the  quilt,  and  despite  the  hardness  of  his 
bed,  he  was  soon  sleeping  soundly. 

"  To-morrow  I  must  look  for  a  place,"  he  said  to 
Signor  Orlando.     "  Can  you  give  me  any  advise  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear  boy.  Buy  a  daily  paper,  the  Sun 
or  Herald^  and  look  at  the  advertisements.  There 
may  be  some  prominent  business  man  who  is  looking 
out  for  a  boy  of  your  size." 


^2  TBE  ERRAND  BOT. 

Phil  knew  of  no  better  way,  and  he  followed  Sig 
nor  Orlando's  advice. 

After  a  frugal  breakfast  at  the  Bowery  restaurant, 
he  invested  a  few  pennies  in  the  two  papers  men- 
tioned, and  began  to  go  the  rounds. 

The  first  place  was  in  Pearl  Street. 

He  entered,  and  was  directed  to  a  desk  in  the 
front  part  of  the  store. 

"  You  advertised  for  a  boy,"  he  said. 

""We've  got  one,"  was  the  brusque  reply. 

Of  course  no  more  was  to  be  said,  and  Phil  walked 
out,  a  little  dashed  at  his  first  rebuff. 

At  the  next  place  he  found  some  half  a  dozen  boys 
waiting,  and  joined  the  line,  but  the  vacancy  was 
fiUed  before  his  turn  came. 

At  the  next  place  his  appearance  seemed  to  make 
a  good  impression,  and  he  was  asked  several  ques- 
tions. 

"  "What  is  your  name  ?" 

"Philip  Brent." 

"  How  old  are  you  ?" 

"  Just  sixteen." 

''  How  is  your  education  ?" 

"I  have  been  to  school  since  I  was  six." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  know  something.  Have  you 
ever  been  in  a  place  ?" 

":N'o,  su"." 

"  Do  you  live  with  your  parents  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  I  have  just  come  to  the  city,  and  am 
lodging  in  Fifth  Street." 


BO  WERMAN'S  VARIETIES.  53 

"  Then  jou  won't  do.  We  wish  our  boys  to  live 
with  their  parents." 

Poor  Phil !  He  had  allowed  himself  to  hope  that 
at  length  he  was  likely  to  get  a  place.  The  abrupt 
termination  of  the  conversation  dispirited  him. 

He  made  three  more  applications.  In  one  of  them 
he  again  came  near  succeeding,  but  once  more  the 
fact  that  he  did  not  live  with  his  parents  defeated 
his  application. 

"It  seems  to  be  very  hard  getting  a  place," 
thought  Phil,  and  it  must  be  confessed  he  felt  a  little 
homesick. 

"  I  won't  make  any  mere  applications  to-day,"  he 
decided,  and  being  on  Broadway,  walked  up  that 
busy  thoroughfare,  wondering  what  the  morrow 
would  bring  forth. 

It  was  winter,  and  there  was  ice  on  the  sidewalk. 
Directly  in  front  of  Phil  walked  an  elderly  gentle- 
man, whose  suit  of  fine  broadcloth  and  gold  spec- 
tacles, seemed  to  indicate  a  person  of  some  promi- 
nence and  social  importance. 

Suddenly  he  set  foot  on  a  treacherous  piece  of  ice. 
Yainly  he  strove  to  keep  his  equilibrium,  his  arms 
waving  wildly,  and  his  gold-headed  cane  falling  to 
the  sidewalk.  He  would  have  fallen  backward,  had 
not  Phil,  observing  his  danger  in  time,  rushed  to  his 
assistance. 


64  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 


CHAPTEK  Vni. 

THE    HOUSE    IN   TWELFTH    STREET. 

WITH  some  difficulty  the  gentleman  righted 
himself,  and  then  Phil  picked  up  his  cane. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  hurt,  sir  ?"  he  said. 

"  I  should  have  been  but  for  you,  my  good  boy," 
said  the  gentleman.  "  I  am  a  little  shaken  by  the 
suddenness  of  my  slipping." 

"  "Would  you  wish  me  to  go  with  you,  sir  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  please.  I  do  not  perhaps  require 
you,  but  I  shall  be  glad  of  your  company." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  Do  you  live  in  the  city  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that  is,  I  propose  to  do  so.  I  have 
come  here  in  search  of  employment." 

Phil  said  this,  thinking  it  possible  that  the  old  gen- 
tleman might  exert  his  influence  in  his  favor. 

"  Are  you  dependent  on  what  you  may  earn  ?" 
asked  the  gentleman,  regarding  him  attentively. 

"  I  have  a  little  money,  sir,  but  when  that  is  gone 
I  shall  need  to  earn  something." 

"  That  is  no  misfortune.  It  is  a  good  thing  for  a 
boy  to  be  employed.  Otherwise  he  is  liable  to  get 
into  mischief." 


TEE  HO  USE  IN  TWELFTH  STREET.  55 

''  At  any  rate,  I  shall  be  glad  to  find  work,  sir." 

"  Have  you  applied  anywhere  yet  ?" 

Phil  gave  a  httle  account  of  his  unsuccessful  ap- 
plications, and  the  objections  that  had  been  made  to 
him. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  old  gentleman  thoughtfully, 
"  more  confidence  is  placed  in  a  boy  who  lives  with 
his  parents." 

The  two  walked  on  together  until  they  reached 
Twelfth  Street.  It  was  a  considerable  walk,  and 
Phil  was  surprised  that  his  companion  should  walk, 
when  he  could  easily  have  taken  a  Broadway  stage, 
but  the  old  gentleman  explained  this  himself. 

"  I  find  it  does  me  good,"  he  said,  "  to  spend  some 
time  in  the  open  air,  and  even  if  walking  tires  me  it 
does  me  good," 

At  Twelfth  Street  they  turned  off. 

"  I  am  living  with  a  married  niece,"  he  said,  "  just 
on  the  other  side  of  Fifth  Avenue." 

At  the  door  of  a  handsome  four-story  house,  with 
a  brown-stone  front,  the  old  gentleman  paused,  and 
iold  Phil  that  this  was  his  residence. 

''Then,  sir,  I  will  bid  you  good-morning,"  said 
Phil. 

"No,  no;  come  in  and  lunch  with  me,"  said  Mr. 
Carter  hospitably. 

He  had,  by  the  way,  mentioned  that  his  name  was 
()liver  Carter,  and  that  he  was  no  longer  actively 
engaged  in  business,  but  was  a  silent  partner  in  the 


56  TEE  ERRAND  BOT, 

firm  of  which  his  nephew  by  marriage  was  the  nom- 
inal  head. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  answered  Phil. 

He  was  sure  that  the  invitation  was  intended  to 
he  accepted,  and  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should 
not  accept  it. 

"  Hannah,"  said  the  old  gentleman  to  the  servant 
who  opened  the  door,  "tell  your  mistress  that  I 
have  brought  a  boy  home  to  dinner  with  me." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Hannah,  surveying  Phil  in 
some  surprise. 

"  Come  up  to  my  room,  my  young  friend,"  said 
Mr.  Carter.  "You  may  want  to  prepare  for 
lunch." 

Mr.  Carter  had  two  connecting  rooms  on  the 
second  floor,  one  of  vrhich  he  used  as  a  bed-cham- 
ber. The  furniture  was  handsome  and  costly,  and 
Phil,  who  was  not  used  to  city  houses,  thought  it 
luxurious. 

Phil  washed  his  face  and  hands,  and  brushed  his 
hair.  Then  a  bell  rang,  and  following  his  new 
friend,  he  went  down  to  lunch. 

Lunch  was  set  out  in  the  front  basement.  When 
Phil  and  Mr.  Carter  entered  the  room  a  lady  was 
standing  by  the  fire,  and  beside  her  was  a  boy  of 
about  Phil's  age.  The  lady  was  tall  and  slender, 
with  light-brown  hair  and  cold  gray  eyes. 

"  Lavinia,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  "  I  have  brought  a 
young  friend  with  me  to  lunch." 


THE  HOUSE  IN  TWELFTH  STREEl.  57 

"  So  I  see,"  answered  the  lady.  "  Has  lie  been 
here  before  ?" 

"  No ;  he  is  a  new  acquaintance." 

"  I  would  speak  to  him  if  I  knew  his  name." 

"  His  name  is " 

Here  the  old  gentleman  hesitated,  for  in  truth  he 
had  forgotten. 

"Phihp  Brent." 

"  You  may  sit  down  here,  Mr.  Brent,"  said  Mrs. 
Pitkin,  for  this  was  the  lady's  name. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am." 

"  And  so  you  made  my  uncle's  acquaintance  this 
morning?"  she  continued,  herself  taking  a  seat  at 
the  head  of  the  table. 

"  Yes;  he  was  of  service  to  me,"  answered  Mr. 
Carter  for  him.  "  I  had  lost  my  balance,  and  should 
have  had  a  heavy  fall  if  Phihp  had  not  come  to  my 
assistance." 

"  He  was  very  kind,  I  am  sure,"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin, 
but  her  tone  was  very  cold. 

"  Philip,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  "  this  is  my  grand- 
nephew,  Alonzo  Pitkin." 

He  indicated  the  boy  already  referred  to. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?"  said  Alonzo,  staring  at  Philip 
not  very  cordially. 

"Very  well,  thank  you,"  answered  Philip  po- 
litely. 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  asked  Alonzo,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation. 


68  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 

« In  Fifth  Street." 

"That's  near  the  Bowery,  isn't  ItT 

"Yes." 

The  boy  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  exchanged  % 
significant  look  with  his  mother. 

Fifth  Street  was  not  a  fashionable  street — indeed 
quite  the  reverse,  and  Phil's  answer  showed  that  he 
was  a  nobody.  Phil  himself  had  begun  to  suspect 
that  he  was  unfashionably  located,  but  he  felt  that 
untQ  his  circumstances  improved  he  might  as  well 
remain  where  he  was. 

But,  though  he  lived  in  an  unfashionable  street,  it 
could  not  be  said  that  Phil,  in  his  table  manners, 
showed  any  lack  of  good  breeding.  He  seemed 
quite  at  home  at  Mrs.  Pitkin's  table,  and  in  fact 
acted  with  greater  propriety  than  Alonzo,  who  was 
addicted  to  fast  eating  and  greediness. 

"  Couldn't  you  walk  home  alone,  Uncle  Oliver  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Pitkin  presently. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  it  was  a  pity  to  trouble  Mr.  Brent  to  come 
¥rith  you." 

"  It  was  no  trouble,"  responded  Philip  promptly, 
though  he  suspected  that  it  was  not  consideration 
for  him  that  prompted  the  remark. 

"  Yes,  I  admit  that  I  was  a  little  selfish  in  taking 
up  my  young  friend's  time,"  said  the  old  gentleman 
cheerfully;  "but  I  infer,  from  what  he  tells  me, 
that  it  is  not  particularly  valuable  just  now." 


THE  HOUSE  IN  TWELFTH  STREET.  59 

•*Are  you  in  a  business  position,  Mr.  Brent?" 
asked  Mrs.  Pitkin. 

"Kg,  madam.  I  was  looking  for  a  place  this 
morning." 

"  Have  you  lived  for  some  time  in  the  city  V* 

"  No ;  I  came  here  only  yesterday  from  the  couzi' 
try." 

"  I  think  country  boys  are  very  foolish  to  leave 
good  homes  in  the  country  to  seek  places  in  the 
city,"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin  sharply. 

"  There  may  be  circumstances,  Lavinia,  that  make 
it  advisable,"  suggested  Mr.  Carter,  who,  however, 
did  not  know  Phil's  reason  for  coming. 

"  No  doubt ;  I  understand  that,"  answered  Mrs. 
Pitkin,  in  a  tone  so  significant  that  Phil  wondered 
whether  she  thought  he  had  got  into  any  trouble  at 
home. 

"  And  besides,  we  can't  judge  for  every  one.  Sol 
hope  Master  PhUip  may  find  some  good  and  satis- 
factory opening,  now  that  he  has  reached  the  city." 

After  a  short  time,  lunch,  which  in  New  York  is 
generally  a  plain  meal,  was  over,  and  Mr.  Carter  in- 
vited Philip  to  come  up-stairs  again. 

"  I  want  to  talk  over  your  prospects,  Philip,"  he 
said. 

There  was  silence  till  after  the  two  had  left  the 
room.    Then  Mrs.  Pitkin  said : 

"  Alonzo,  I  don't  like  this." 

«  What  don't  you  like,  ma  V 


60  THE  ERE  AND  BOY. 

"  Uncle  bringing  this  boy  home.  It  is  very  ex 
traordinary,  this  sudden  interest  in  a  perfect 
stranger." 

"  Do  you  think  he'll  leave  him  any  money  2"  asked 
A-lonzo,  betraying  interest. 

"  I  don't  know  what  it  may  lead  to,  Lonny,  but  it 
don't  look  right.     Such  things  have  been  known." 

"I'd  like  to  punch  the  boy's  head,"  remarked 
Alonzo,  with  sudden  hostility.  "  AU  uncle's  money 
ought  to  come  to  us." 

"  So  it  ought,  by  rights,"  observed  his  mother. 
"  We  must  see  that  this  boy  doesn't  get  any  ascend- 
ency over  him." 

Phil  would  have  been  very  muck  amazed  if  he 
had  overheard  this  conversation 


TEE  OLD  GENTLEMAN  PROVES  A  FRIEND.      61 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE   OLD   GENTLEMAN     PROVES    A    FRIEND. 

THE  OLD  gentleman  sat  down  in  an  arm-chair 
and  waved  his  hand  toward  a  small  rocking- 
chair,  in  which  Phil  seated  himself. 

"  I  conclude  that  you  had  a  good  reason  for  leav- 
ing home,  Philip,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  eying  our  hero 
with  a  keen,  but  friendly  look. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  since  my  father's  death  it  has  not  been 
a  home  to  me." 

"  Is  there  a  step-mother  in  the  case  ?"  asked  the 
old  gentleman  shrewdly. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Any  one  else  ?" 

"  She  has  a  son." 

"  And  you  two  don't  agree  ?" 

"  You  seem  to  know  all  about  it,  sir,"  said  PhU, 
surprised. 

"  I  know  something  of  the  world — that  is  aU." 

Phil  began  to  think  that  Mr.  Carter's  knowledge 
of  the  world  was  very  remarkable.  He  began  to  won- 
der whether  he  could  know  anything  more — could 
suspect  the  secret  which  Mrs.  Brent  had  communi- 
cated to  him.    Should  he  speak  of  it  ?    He  decided 


62  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

at  any  rate  to  wait,  for  Mr.  Carter,  though  kind,  was 
a  comparative  stranger. 

"  Well,"  continued  the  old  gentleman,  "  I  won't  in- 
quire too  minutely  into  the  circumstances.  You 
don't  look  like  a  boy  that  would  take  such  an  impor- 
tant step  as  leaving  home  without  a  satisfactory  rea- 
son.    The  next  thing  is  to  help  you." 

Phil's  courage  rose  as  he  heard  these  words.  Mr. 
Carter  was  evidently  a  rich  man,  and  he  could  help 
him  if  he  was  wilhng.  So  he  kept  silence,  and  let 
his  new  friend  do  the  talking. 

"  You  want  a  place,"  continued  Mr.  Carter.  "  Now, 
what  are  you  fit  for  ?" 

"  That  is  a  hard  question  for  me  to  answer,  sir.  I 
don't  know." 

"  Have  you  a  good  education  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  and  I  know  something  of  Latin  and 
French  besides." 

"  You  can  write  a  good  hand  ?" 

"ShaUIshowyou,  sir?" 

"  Yes ;  write  a  few  lines  at  my  private  desk." 

Phil  did  so,  and  handed  the  paper  to  Mr.  Carter. 

"  Yery  good,"  said  the  old  gentleman  approvingly. 
"  That  is  in  your  favor.  Are  you  good  at  accounts  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Better  still." 

"  Sit  down  there  again,"  he  continued.  "  I  will 
give  you  a  sum  in  interest." 

Phil  resumed  his  seat. 


TEE  OLD  GENTLEMAN  PROVES  A  FRIEND.      63 

"  What  is  the  interest  of  eight  hundred  and  forty- 
five  dollars  and  sixty  cents  for  four  years,  three 
months  and  twelve  days,  at  eight  and  one-half  per 
cent?" 

Phil's  pen  moved  fast  in  perfect  silence  for  five 
minutes.     Then  he  announced  the  result. 

"  Let  me  look  at  the  paper.  I  will  soon  tell  you 
wnetner  it  is  correct." 

After  a  brief  examination,  for  the  old  gentleman 
was  himself  an  adept  at  figures,  he  said,  with  a 
beaming  smile : 

"  It  is  entirely  correct.     You  are  a  smart  boy." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Phil,  gratified. 

"  And  you  deserve  a  good  place — better  than  you 
wiU  probably  get." 

Phil  listened  attentively.  The  last  clause  was  not 
quite  so  satisfactory. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  evidently  talking  to  him- 
self, "  I  must  get  Pitkin  to  take  him." 

Phil  kncAv  that  the  lady  whom  he  had  already 
met  was  named  Pitkin,  and  he  rightly  concluded 
that  it  was  her  husband  who  \vas  meant. 

"I  hope  he  is  more  agreeable  than  his  wife," 
thought  Philip. 

"  Yes,  Philip,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  who  had  evidently 
made  up  his  mind,  "  I  will  try  to  find  you  a  place 
this  afternoon. 

"  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged,  sir,"  said  Philip 
gladly. 


64  THE  ERRAND  BO  Y. 

"  I  have  already  told  ^^ou  that  my  nephew  and  J 
are  in  business  together,  he  being  the  active  and  I 
the  silent  partner.  "We  do  a  general  shipping  busi- 
ness. Our  store  is  on  Franklin  Street.  I  will  give 
you  a  letter  to  my  nephew  and  he  will  give  you  a 
place." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  "Wait  a  minute  and  I  will  write  the  note." 

Five  minutes  later  Phil  was  on  his  way  down  towr? 
'■Ith  his  credentials  in  his  pocket. 


*mL  VALLS  ON  MU.  tlTKlN,  Sb 


CHAPTER  X 

PHIL  OALUB  ON   MB.  PITKIN. 

PHIL  paused  before  an  imposing  business  struct^ 
ure,  and  looked  up  to  see  if  he  could  see  tha 
sign  that  would  show  him  he  had  reached  his  desti- 
nation. 

He  had  not  far  to  look.  On  the  front  of  the 
building  he  saw  in  large  letters  the  sign : 

ENOCH  PITKIN  &  CO. 

In  the  door-waj  there  was  another  sign,  from 
wrhich  he  learned  that  the  firm  occupied  the  second 
floor. 

He  went  up-stairs,  and  opening  a  door,  entered  a 
spacious  apartment  which  looked  like  a  hive  of  in- 
dustry. There  were  numerous  clerks,  counters 
piled  with  goods,  and  every  indication  that  a  pros- 
perous business  was  being  carried  on. 

The  nearest  person  was  a  young  man  of  eighteen, 
or  perhaps  more,  with  an  incipient,  straw-colored 
mustache,  and  a  shock  of  hair  of  tow-color.  This 
young  man  wore  a  variegated  neck-tie,  a  stiff  stand- 
ing-collar, and  a  suit  of  clothes  in  the  extreme  o(f 
tashion. 


^  THE  ERRAND  BOT, 

Phil  looked  at  him  hesitatingly. 

The  young  man  observed  the  look,  and  asked  oott* 
descendingly : 

"  What  can  I  do  for  yon,  my  son  2" 

Such  an  address  from  a  person  less  than  tisree 
years  older  than  himself  came  near  upsetting  the 
gravity  of  Phil. 

"  Is  Mr.  Pitkin  m  ?"  he  asked. 

*^  Yes,  I  believe  so.*' 

**  Can  I  see  him." 

*'  I  have  no  objection,"  remarked  ^Jae  young  nuut 
facetiously. 

"  Where  shaU  I  find  him  V 

The  youth  indicated  a  small  room  partitioned  ofl 
as  a  private  oflfice  in  the  extreme  end  of  the  store. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Phil,  and  proceeded  to  find 
his  way  to  the  office  in  question. 

Arrived  at  the  door,  which  was  partly  open,  he 
looked  in. 

In  an  arm-chair  sat  a  small  man,  with  an  erect  fig* 
vire  and  an  air  of  consequence.  He  was  not  over 
forty-five,  but  looked  older,  for  his  cheeks  were  al- 
ready seamed  and  his  look  was  querulous.  Cheer' 
fui  natures  do  not  so  soon  show  signs  of  ago  as  theif 
opposites. 

"  Mr.  Pitkin  V'  said  Phil  interrogatively. 

"Well?"  said  the  small  man,  frowning  instinct- 
ively. 

"  1  have  a  note  for  you,  iir." 


PHIL  CALLS  ON  MR.  PITKIN.  C>t 

Phil  stepped  forward  and  handed  the  missive  to 
Mr.  Pitkin. 
The  latter  opened  it  quickly  and  read  as  follows : 

The  boy  who  will  present  this  to  you  did  me  a 
service  this  morning.  He  is  in  want  of  employment. 
He  seems  well  educated,  but  if  you  can't  offer  him 
anything  better  than  the  post  of  errand  boy,  do  so. 
I  will  guarantee  that  he  will  give  satisfaction.  You 
call  send  him  to  the  post-office,  and  to  other  offices 
on  such  errands  as  you  may  have.  Pay  him  five 
dollars  a  week  and  charge  that  sum  to  me. 

Yours  truly, 

Oliver  Carter. 

Mr.  Pitkin's  frown  deepened  as  he  read  this  note. 

"  Pish !"  he  ejaculated,  in  a  tone  which,  though 
low,  was  audible  to  Phil.  "  Uncle  Oliver  must  be 
crazy.  What  is  your  name  ?"  he  demanded  fiercely, 
turning  suddenly  to  Phil. 

"  Philip  Brent." 

"  When  did  you  meet — the  gentleman  who  gave 
you  this  letter?" 

Phil  told  him. 

"  Do  you  know  what  is  in  this  letter  ?" 

"  I  suppose,  sir,  it  is  a  request  that  you  give  me  a 
place." 

"  Did  you  read  it  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Phil  indignantly. 

"  Humph  !  He  wants  me  to  give  you  the  place  of 
errand  boy." 

"  I  will  try  to  suit  you,  sir." 


m  TBS  BRBAKD  BO  Y. 

"  When  do  you  want  to  begin  T 

"  As  soon  as  possible,  sir." 

"Come  to-morrow  morning,  and  report  to  me 
first." 

"  Another  freak  of  Uncle  OUver's !"  he  muttered, 
as  he  turned  his  back  upon  Phil,  and  so  sdgnified  that 
the  mterview  was  at  an  end. 


PHIL  ENTERS  UPON  EIS  DUTIES,  69 


CHAPTEE  XI. 

PHIL   ENTERS    UPON    HIS    DUTIES. 

PHIL  presented  himself  in  good  season  the  next 
morning  at  the  store  in  Franklin  Street.  As  he 
came  up  in  one  direction  the  youth  whom  he  had 
'  seen  in  the  store  the  previous  day  came  up  in  the 
opposite  direction.  The  latter  was  evidently  sur- 
prised. 

"  Halloo,  Johnny  !"  said  he.  "  What's  brought 
you  here  again  ?" 

"  Business,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Going  to  buy  out  the  firm  ?"  inquired  the  youth 
Jocosely. 

"Not  to-day." 

"Some  other  day,  then,"  said  the  young  man, 
laughing  as  if  he  had  said  a  very  witty  thing. 

As  Phil  didn't  know  that  this  form  of  expression, 
slightly  varied,  had  become  a  popular  phrase  of  the 
day,  he  did  not  laugh. 

"  Do  you  belong  to  the  church?"  asked  the  youth, 
stopping  short  in  his  own  mirth. 

"  What  makes  you  ask  ?" 

"  Because  you  don't  laugh." 

"  I  would  if  I  saw  anything  to  laugh  at." 


70  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

"  Come,  that's  hard  on  me.  Honor  bright,  have 
you  come  to  do  any  business  with  us  ?" 

It  is  rather  amusing  to  see  how  soon  the  cheapest 
clerk  talks  of  "  us,"  quietly  identifying  himself  with 
the  firm  that  employs  him.  Not  that  I  object  to  it. 
Often  it  implies  a  personal  interest  in  the  success 
and  prosperity  of  the  firm,  which  makes  a  clerk  more 
valuable.  This  was  not,  however,  the  case  with  G. 
Washington  "Wilbur,  the  young  man  who  was  now 
conversing  with  Phil,  as  will  presently  appear. 

"  I  am  going  to  work  here,"  answered  Phil  simply. 

"  Going  to  work  here !"  repeated  Mr.  Wilbur  in 
surprise.     "  Has  old  Pitkin  engaged  you  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pitkin  engaged  me  yesterday,"  Phil  replied. 

"  I  didn't  know  he  wanted  a  boy.  What  are  you 
to  do?" 

"  Go  to  the  post-office,  bank,  and  so  on." 

"  You're  to  be  errand  boy,  then  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  That's  the  way  I  started,"  said  Mr.  Wilbur  pat- 
ronizingly. 

"  What  are  you  now  ?" 

"  A  salesman.  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  back  in  my 
old  position.    What  wages  are  you  going  to  get  ?" 

"  Five  dollars." 

'•  Five  dollars  a  week !"  ejaculated  Mr.  G.  Wash- 
ington Wilbur,  in  amazement.  "  Come,  you're  chaff- 
ing." 

"  Why  should  I  do  that  ?  Is  that  anything  re- 
markable ?" 


PHIL  ENTERS  UPON  HI8  DUTIES.  71 

"I  should  say  it  was,"  answered  Mr.  Wilbur 
slowly. 

"  Didn't  you  get  as  much  when  you  were  errand 
boy?" 

"  I  only  got  two  dollars  and  a  half.  Did  Pitkin 
tell  you  he  would  pay  you  five  dollars  a  week." 

"  No ;  Mr  Carter  told  me  so." 

"  The  old  gentleman — Mr.  Pitkin's  uncle  ?" 

"  Yes.  It  was  at  his  request  that  Mr.  Pitkin  took 
me  on." 

Mr.  "Wilbur  looked  grave. 

"  It's  a  shame  !"  he  commenced. 

"What  is  a  shame ;  that  I  should  get  five  dollars 
a  week  ?" 

"  No,  but  that  I  should  only  get  a  dollar  a  week 
more  than  an  errand  boy.  I'm  worth  every  cent  of 
ten  doUars  a  week,  but  the  old  man  only  gives  me 
six.     It  hardly  keeps  me  in  gloves  and  cigars." 

"  Won't  he  give  you  any  more  ?" 

"  No ;  only  last  month  I  asked  him  for  a  raise,  and 
he  told  me  if  I  wasn't  satisfied  I  might  go  else- 
where." 

"You  didn't?" 

"  No,  but  I  mean  to  soon.  I  wiU  show  old  Pitkin 
that  he  can't  keep  a  man  of  my  experience  for  such 
a  paltry  salary.  I  dare  say  that  Denning  or  Claflin 
would  be  glad  to  have  me,  and  pay  me  what  I  am 
worth." 

Phil  did  not  want  to  laugh,  but  when  Mr.  Wilbur, 


72  THE  EBBAND  B07. 

who  looked  scarcely  older  than  himself,  and  was  in 
appearance  but  a  callow  youth,  referred  to  himself 
as  a  man  of  experience  he  found  it  hard  to  resist. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  be  going  up  stairs  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"  All  right.  Follow  me,"  said  Mr.  Wilbur,  "  and 
I'll  take  you  to  the  superintendent  of  the  room." 

"  I  am  to  report  to  Mr.  Pitkin  himself,  I  beheve." 

"  He  won't  be  here  yet  awhile,"  said  "Wilbur. 

But  just  then  up  came  Mr.  Wilbur  himself,  fully 
half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual. 

Phil  touched  his  hat  politely,  and  said : 

"  Good-morning." 

"  Good-morning !"  returned  his  employer,  regard- 
ing him  sharply.  "  Are  you  the  boy  I  hired  yester- 
day?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Come  up-stairs,  then." 

Phil  followed  Mr.  Pitkin  up-stairs,  and  they 
walked  together  through  the  sales-room. 

"I  hope  you  understand,"  said  Mr.  Pitkin 
brusquely,  "  that  I  have  engaged  you  at  the  request 
of  Mr.  Carter  and  to  obUge  him." 

"  I  feel  grateful  to  Mr.  Carter,"  said  Phil,  not  quite 
knowing  what  was  coming  next. 

"  I  shouldn't  myself  have  engaged  a  boy  of  whom 
I  knew  nothing,  and  who  could  give  me  no  city  ref- 
erences." 

"  I  hope  you  won't  be  disappointed  in  me,"  said 
PkiL 


PHIL  ENTERS  UPON  HIS  DUTIES.  73 

"  I  hope  not,"  answered  Mr.  Pitkin,  in  a  tone 
■wMcii  seemed  to  imply  that  he  rather  expected  to 
be. 

Phil  began  to  feel  uncomfortable.  It  seemed  evi- 
dent that  whatever  he  did  would  be  closely  scruti- 
nized, and  that  in  an  unfavorable  spirit. 

Mr.  Pitkin  paused  before  a  desk  at  which  was 
standing  a  stout  man  with  grayish  hair. 

"  Mr.  Sanderson,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  new  errand 
boy.    His  name  is — ^what  is  it,  boy  ?" 

"  Philip  Brent." 

"  You  will  give  him  something  to  do.  Has  the 
mail  come  in  ?" 

"  Ko ;  we  haven't  sent  to  the  post-office  yet." 

"  You  may  send  this  boy  at  once." 

Mr.  Sanderson  took  from  the  desk  a  key  and 
handed  it  to  Phihp. 

"  That  is  the  key  to  our  box,"  he  said.  "  Notice 
the  number — 534.  Open  it  and  bring  the  mail. 
Don't  loiter  on  the  way." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Philip  took  the  key  and  left  the  warehouse. 
When  he  reached  the  street  he  said  to  himself : 

"  I  wonder  where  the  post-office  is  ?" 

He  did  not  like  to  confess  to  Mr.  Sanderson  that 
he  did  not  know,  for  it  would  probably  have  been 
considered  a  disqualification  for  the  post  which  he 
was  filhng. 

"  I  had  better  walk  to  Broadway,"  he  said  to  him- 


74  TEE  ERRAND  BOT. 

self.  "I  suppose  the  post-oflfice  must  be  on  the 
principal  street." 

In  this  Phil  was  mistakeii.  At  that  time  the  post- 
office  was  on  Kassau  Street,  in  an  old  church  which 
had  been  utilized  for  a  purpose  very  different  from 
the  one  to  which  it  had  originally  been  devoted. 

Reaching  Broadway,  Phil  was  saluted  by  a  boot- 
black, with  a  grimy  but  honest-looking  face. 

"  Shine  your  boots,  mister  ?"  said  the  boy,  with  a 
grin. 

"  Ifot  this  morning." 

"  Some  other  morning,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Sorry  you  won't  give  me  a  job,"  said  the  boot- 
black. "  My  taxes  comes  due  to-day,  and  I  ain't  got 
enough  to  pay  'em." 

Phil  was  amused,  for  his  new  acquaintance  scarcely 
looked  like  a  heavy  taxpayer. 

"  Do  you  pay  a  big  tax  ?"  he  asked. 

"  A  thousand  dollars  or  less,"  answered  the  knight 
of  the  brush. 

"  I  guess  it's  less,"  said  Phil. 

"  That's  where  your  head's  level,  young  chap." 

"  Is  the  post-office  far  from  here  V* 

"  Over  half  a  mile,  I  reckon." 

"  Is  it  on  this  street  ?" 

"  No,  it's  on  Nassau  Street." 

"  If  you  wiU  show  me  the  way  there  Pll  give  you 
ten  cents." 


PHIL  ENTERS  UPON  EJS  DUTIES.  75 

"  All  right !    The  walk'll  do  me  good.     Come  on !" 

""What's  jom*  name?"  asked  Phil,  who  had  be- 
come interested  in  his  new  acquaintance. 

"  The  boys  caU  me  Ragged  Dick." 

It  was  indeed  the  lively  young  bootblack  whose 
history  was  afterward  given  in  a  volume  which  is 
probably  familiar  to  many  of  my  readers.  At  this 
time  he  was  only  a  bootblack,  and  had  not  yet  begun 
to  feel  the  spur  of  that  ambition  which  led  to  his 
subsequent  prosperity. 

"  That's  a  queer  name,"  said  Phil. 

"  I  try  to  live  up  to  it,"  said  Dick,  with  a  comical 
glance  at  his  ragged  coat,  which  had  originally  been 
worn  by  a  man  six  feet  in  height. 

He  swung  his  box  over  his  shoulder,  and  led  the 
way  to  the  old  post-office. 


98  TEE  ERRAND  BOF^ 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

ME.   LIONEL   LAKE  AGAIN. 

PHIL  continued  his  conversation  with  Ragged 
Dick,  and  was  much  amused  by  his  quaint  way 
of  expressing  himself. 

"When  they  reached  Murray  Street,  Dick  said : 
"  Follow  me.    We'll  cut  across  the  City  Hall  Park. 
It  is  the  shortest  way." 

Soon  they  reached  the  shabby  old  building  with 
which  New  Yorkers  were  then  obliged  to  be  content 
with  as  a  post-office. 

Phil  secured  the  mail  matter  for  Pitkin  &  Co., 
and  was  just  about  leaving  the  office,  when  he  noticed 
just  ahead  of  him  a  figure  which  looked  very 
familiar. 

It  flashed  upon  him  of  a  sudden  that  it  was  his 
old  train  acquaintance,  Lionel  Lake.  He  imme- 
diately hurried  forward  and  touched  his  arm. 

Mr.  Lake,  who  had  several  letters  in  his  hand, 
started  nervously,  and  turned  at  the  touch.  He  re- 
cognized Phil,  but  appeared  not  to  do  so. 

"  "What  do  you  wish,  boy  ?"  he  asked,  loftily." 
"  I  want  to  speak  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Lake." 
The  young  man  shrugged  his  shoulders. 


MR.  LIONEL  LAKE  AGAIN.  77 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  the  person,"  he  said.  "  My 
name  is  not  Lake." 

"Yery  likely  not,"  said  Phil  significantly,  "but 
that's  what  you  called  yourself  when  we  met  on  the 
train." 

"  I  repeat,  boy,  that  you  are  strangely  mistaken. 
My  name  is  " — he  paused  shghtly — "  John  Mont- 
gomery." 

"  Just  as  you  please.  Whatever  your  name  is,  I 
have  a  little  business  Avith  you." 

"  I  can't  stop.    My  business  is  urgent,"  said  Lake. 

"  Then  I  will  be  brief.  1  lent  you  five  dollars  on 
a  ring  which  I  afterward  discovered  to  be  stolen.  I 
want  you  to  return  that  money." 

Mr.  Lake  looked  about  him  apprehensively,  for 
he  did  not  wish  any  one  to  hear  what  Phil  was  say- 
ing. 

"  You  must  be  crazy !"  he  said.  "  I  never  saw  you 
before  in  the  whole  course  of  my  life." 

He  shook  off  Phil's  detaining  hand,  and  was  about 
to  hurry  away,  but  Phil  said  resolutely : 

"  You  can't  deceive  me,  Mr.  Lake.  Give  me  that 
money,  or  I  will  call  a  policeman." 

Now,  it  happened  that  a  pohceman  was  passing 
just  outside,  and  Lake  could  see  him. 

"  This  is  an  infamous  outrage !"  he  said,  "  but  I 
have  an  important  appointment,  and  can't  be  de- 
tained. Take  the  money.  I  give  it  to  you  in 
charity." 


78  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

Phil  gladly  received  and  pocketed  the  bank-note, 
and  relinquishing  his  hold  of  Mr.  Lake,  rejoined 
Dick,  who  had  been  an  interested  eye-witness  of  the 
interview. 

"  I  see  you've  got  pluck,"  said  Dick.  "  "What's  it 
all  about  ?" 

Phil  told  him. 

"  I  ain't  a  bit  s'prised,"  said  Dick,  "  I  could  teU 
by  his  looks  that  the  man  was  a  skin." 

"  Well,  I'm  even  with  him,  at  any  rate,"  said  Phil. 
"  Kow  I'll  be  getting  back  to  the  office.  Thank  yoi» 
for  your  guidance.     Here's  a  quarter." 

"  You  only  promised  me  ten  cents." 

"It's  worth  a  quarter.  I  hope  to  meet  you 
again." 

"  "We'U  meet  at  Astor's  next  party,"  said  Dick, 
with  a  grin.     "  My  invite  came  yesterday." 

"  Mine  hasn't  come  yet,"  said  Phil,  smiling. 

"  Maybe  it'U  come  to-morrow." 

"  He's  a  queer  chap,"  thought  Phil.  "  He's  fit  for 
something  better  than  blacking  boots.  I  hope  he'll 
have  the  luck  to  get  it." 

Phil  had  been  detained  by  his  interview  with  Mr. 
Lake,  but  he  made  up  for  it  by  extra  speed,  and 
reached  the  warehouse  in  fair  time.  After  deliver- 
ing the  letters  he  was  sent  out  on  another  errand, 
and  during  the  entire  day  he  was  kept  busy. 

Leaving  him  for  the  moment  we  go  back  to  the 
Pitkin  mansion,  and  listen  to  a  conversation  between 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pitkin. 


MB.  LIONEL  LAKE  AGAIN.  79 

"  Uncle  Oliver  is  getting  more  and  more  eccentric 
every  day,"  said  the  lady.  "  He  brought  home  a  boy 
to  lunch  to-day — some  one  whom  he  had  picked  up 
in  the  street." 

"  "Was  the  boy's  name  Philip  Brent  ?"  asked  her 
husband. 

"Yes,  I  beheve  so.  What  do  you  know  about 
him  ?"  asked  the  lady  in  surprise. 

"  I  have  engaged  him  as  errand  boy." 

"  Tou  have !     What  for  ?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Pitkin. 

"  I  couldn't  help  it.  He  brought  a  letter  from 
your  uncle,  requesting  me  to  do  so,  and  offering  to 
pay  his  wages  out  of  his  own  pocket." 

"  This  is  really  getting  very  serious,"  said  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin, annoyed.  "  Suppose  he  should  take  a  fancy  to 
this  boy  ?' 

"  He  appears  to  have  done  so  already,"  said  her 
husband  dryly. 

"  I  mean,  suppose  he  should  adopt  him  ?" 

"  You  are  getting  on  pretty  fast,  Lavinia,  are  you 
not?" 

"  Such  things  happen  sometimes,"  said  the  lady, 
nodding.  "  If  it  should  happen  it  would  be  bad  for 
poor  Lonny," 

"  Even  in  that  case  Lonny  won't  have  to  go  to  the 
poor-house." 

"  Mr.  Pitkin,  you  don't  realize  the  danger.  Here's 
Uncle  Oliver  worth  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars, 
and  it  ought  to  be  left  to  us." 


80  TEE  ERRAND  BOY, 

"  Probably  it  will  be." 

"  He  may  leave  it  all  to  this  boy.  This  must  be 
prevented." 

"How?" 

"  You  must  say  the  boy  doesn't  suit  you,  and  dis- 
charge him." 

" Well,  well,  give  me  time.  I  have  no  objection; 
but""!  suspect  it  will  be  hard  to  find  any  fault  with 
him.    He  looks  Hke  a  reliable  boy." 

"  To  me  he  looks  like  an  artful  young  adventurer," 
said  Mrs.  Pitkin  vehemenntly.  "Depend  upon  it, 
Mr.  Pitkin,  he  will  spare  no  pains  to  ingratiate  him- 
self into  Uncle  Oliver's  favor." 

It  will  be  seen  that  Mrs.  Pitkin  was  gifted — if  it 
can  be  called  a  gift — with  a  very  suspicious  tempera- 
ment. She  was  mean  and  grasping,  and  could  not 
bear  the  idea  of  even  a  small  part  of  her  uncle's 
money  going  to  any  one  except  her  own  family. 
There  was,  indeed,  another  whose  relationship  to 
Uncle  OUver  was  as  close — a  cousin,  who  had  es- 
tranged her  relatives  by  marrying  a  poor  book- 
keeper, with  whom  she  had  gone  to  Milwaukee. 
Her  name  was  never  mentioned  in  the  Pitkin  house- 
hold, and  Mrs.  Pitkin,  trusting  to  the  distance  be- 
tween them,  did  not  apprehend  any  danger  from  this 
source.  Had  she  known  Rebecca  Forbush  was  even 
now  in  New  York,  a  widow  with  one  child,  strug- 
gling to  make  a  living  by  sewing  and  taking  lodgers, 
she  would  have  felt  less  tranquil.    But  she  knew 


MR.  LIONEL  LAKE  AG  Am.  81 

nothing  of  all  this,  nor  did  she  dream  that  the  boy 
whom  she  dreaded  was  the  very  next  day  to  make 
the  acquaintance  of  this  despised  relation. 

This  was  the  way  that  it  happened  : 

Phil  soon  tired  of  the  room  he  had  taken  in  Fifth 
Street.  It  was  not  neatly  kept,  and  was  far  from 
comfortable.  Then  again,  he  found  that  the  restau- 
rants, cheap  as  they  were,  were  likely  to  absorb 
about  all  his  salary,  though  the  bill-of-fare  was  far 
from  attractive. 

Chance  took  him  through  a  side-street,  between 
Second  and  Third  Avenues,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Thirteenth  Street. 

Among  the  three  and  four-story  buildings  that 
lined  the  block  was  one  frame-house,  two-story-and- 
basement,  on  which  he  saw  a  sign,  "  Board  for  Gen- 
tlemen." He  had  seen  other  similar  signs,  but  his 
attention  was  specially  drawn  to  this  by  seeing  a 
pleasant-looking  woman  enter  the  house  with  the 
air  of  proprietor.  This  woman  recalled  to  Philip  his 
own  mother,  to  whom  she  bore  a  striking  resem- 
blance. 

"  I  would  like  to  board  with  one  whose  face  re- 
called that  of  my  dear  dead  mother,"  thought  Phil, 
and  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  just  after  the 
woman  had  entered,  he  rang  the  door-bell. 

The  door  was  opened  almost  immediately  by  the 
woman  he  had  just  seen  enter. 

It  seemed  to  Phil  almost  as  if  he  were  looking  into 


82  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

his  mother's  face,  and  he  inquired  in  an  unsteady 
voice : 

"  Do  you  take  boarders  ?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  answer.     "  "Won't  you  step  inf* 


V 


PEWS  NEW  HOME.  83 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

Phil's     nkw     home. 

THE  HOUSE  was  poorly  furnished  with  cheap 
furniture,  but  there  was  an  unexpected  air  of 
neatness  about  it.  There  is  a  great  difference  be- 
tween respectable  and  squalid  poverty.  It  was  the 
first  of  these  that  was  apparent  in  the  small  house  in 
which  our  hero  found  himself. 

"  I  am  looking  for  a  boarding-place,"  said  PhiUp. 
"  1  cannot  afford  to  pay  a  high  price." 

"  And  I  should  not  think  of  asking  a  high  price 
for  such  plain  accommodations  as  I  can  offer,"  said 
Mrs.  Forbush.  "  "What  sort  of  a  room  do  you  de- 
sire?" 

"  A  small  room  will  answer." 

"  I  have  a  hall-bedroom  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
"Will  you  go  up  and  look  at  it  ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  do  so." 

Mrs.  Forbush  led  the  way  up  a  narrow  staircase, 
and  Philip  followed  her. 

Opening  the  door  of  the  small  room  referred  to, 
she  showed  a  neat  bed,  a  chair,  a  wash-stand,  and  a 
few  hooks  from  which  clothing  might  be  hung.     It 


84  THE  ERRAND  B07. 

was  plain  enough,  but  there  was  an  air  of  neatness 
which  did  not  characterize  his  present  room. 

"  I  like  the  room,"  he  said,  brightening  up.  "  How 
much  do  you  charge  for  this  room  and  board  ?" 

"  Four  dollars.  That  includes  breakfast  and  sup- 
per," answered  Mrs.  Forbush.  "  Lunch  you  provide 
for  yourself." 

"  That  will  be  satisfactory,"  said  Phil.  "  I  am  in 
a  place  down  town,  and  I  could  not  come  to  lunch, 
at  any  rate." 

"  When  would  you  like  to  come,  Mr. V  said 

the  widow  interrogatively." 

"  My  name  is  Philip  Brent." 

"  Mr.  Brent." 

"  I  will  come  some  time  to-morrow." 

"  Generally  I  ask  a  small  payinent  in  advance,  as 
a  guarantee  that  an  applicant  will  really  come,  but 
I  am  sure  I  can  trust  you." 

"  Thank  you,  but  I  am  quite  willing  to  conform  to 
your  usual  rule,"  said  Phil,  as  he  drew  a  two-dollar 
bill  from  his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  the  widow. 

So  they  parted,  mutually  jjleased.  Phil's  week  at 
his  present  lodging  would  not  be  up  for  severa] 
days,  but  he  was  tired  of  it,  and  felt  that  he  would 
be  much  more  comfortable  with  Mrs.  Forbush.  So 
he  was  ready  to  make  the  small  pecuniary  sacrifice 
needful - 

The  conversation  which  has  been  recorded  took 
but  five  minutes,  and  did  not  materially  delay  Phil, 


PHIL'S  NEW  HOME.  85 

who,  as  I  have  already  said,  was  absent  from  the 
store  on  an  errand. 

The  next  day  Phil  became  installed  at  his  new 
boarding-place,  and  presented  himself  at  supper. 

There  were  three  other  boarders,  two  being  a 
young  salesman  at  a  Third  Avenue  store  and  his 
wife.  They  occupied  a  square  room  on  the  same 
floor  with  Phil.  The  other  was  a  female  teacher, 
employed  in  one  of  the  city  public  schools.  The 
only  remaining  room  was  occupied  by  a  drummer, 
who  was  often  called  away  for  several  days  together. 
This  comprised  the  list  of  boarders,  but  Phil's  atten- 
tion was  called  to  a  young  girl  of  fourteen,  of  sweet 
and  attractive  appearance,  whom  he  ascertained  to 
be  a  daughter  of  Mrs.  Forbush.  The  young  lady 
herself,  Julia  Forbush,  cast  frequent  glances  at  Phil, 
who,  being  an  unusually  good-looking  boy,  would 
naturally  excite  the  notice  of  a  young  girl. 

On  the  whole,  it  seemed  a  pleasant  and  social 
circle,  and  Phil  felt  that  he  had  found  a  home. 

The  next  day,  as  he  was  occupied  in  the  store, 
next  to  G.  Washington  Wilbur,  he  heard  that  young 
man  say : 

"  Why,  there's  Mr.  Carter  coming  into  the  store !" 

Mr.  Oliver  Carter,  instead  of  making  his  way 
directly  to  the  office  where  Mr.  Pitkin  was  sitting, 
came  up  to  where  Phil  was  at  work. 

"  How  are  you  getting  along,  my  young  friend  ?" 
he  asked  familiarly. 


86  TEE  ERRAND  EOT, 

"  Yery  well,  thank  you,  sir." 

"  Do  you  find  jour  duties  very  fatiguing  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  sir.     I  have  a  comfortable  time." 

"  That's  right.  Work  cheerfully  and  you  will  win 
the  good  opinion  of  your  employer.  Don't  forget  to 
come  up  and  see  me  soon." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

"  You  seem  to  be  pretty  solid  with  the  old  man," 
remarked  Mr.  Wilbur. 

"We  are  on  very  good  terms,"  answered  Phil, 
smiling. 

'•  I  wish  you  had  introduced  him  to  me,"  said  Wil- 
bur, 

"  Don't  you  know  him  ?"  asked  Phil,  in  surprise. 

"  He  doesn't  often  come  to  the  store,  and  when  he 
does  he  generally  goes  at  once  to  the  office,  and  the 
clerks  don't  have  a  chance  to  get  acquainted." 

"  I  should  hardly  Hke  to  take  the  liberty,  then," 
said  Phil. 

"  Oh,  keep  him  to  yourself,  then,  if  you  want  to," 
said  Mr.  Wilbur,  evidently  annoyed. 

"  I  don't  care  to  do  that.  I  shall  be  entirely  will- 
ing to  introduce  you  when  there  is  a  good  chance." 

This  seemed  to  appease  Mr.  Wilbur,  who  became 
once  more  gracious. 

"Philip,"  he  said,  as  the  hour  of  closing  ap- 
proached, "  why  can't  you  come  around  and  call  upon 
me  this  evening  ?" 

"  So  I  will,"  answered  Phil  readily. 


PEWS  NEW  HOME.  87 

Indeed,  he  found  it  rather  hard  to  fill  up  his  even- 
ings, and  was  glad  to  have  a  way  suggested. 

"  Do.     I  want  to  teU  you  a  secret." 

"  Where  do  you  live  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"  No. East  Twenty-second  Street." 

"  All  right.  I  wiU  come  round  about  half-past 
seven." 

Though  Wilbur  lived  in  a  larger  house  than  he, 
Phil  did  not  Hke  his  room  as  weU.  There  being  only 
one  chair  in  the  room,  Mr.  Wilbur  put  his  visitor  in 
it,  and  himself  sat  on  the  bed. 

There  was  something  of  a  mystery  in  the  youu^ 
man's  manner  as,  after  clearing  his  throat,  he  said 
to  Phil : 

"  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  secret." 

Phil's  curiosity  was  somewhat  stirred,  and  he  sig- 
nified that  he  would  like  to  hear  it. 

"  I  have  for  some  time  wanted  a  confidant,"  said 
Mr.  Wilbur.  "  I  did  not  wish  to  trust  a  mere  ac- 
quaintance, for — ahem ! — the  matter  is  quite  a  deU- 
cate  one. 

Phil  regarded  him  with  increased  interest. 

"  I  am  flattered  by  your  selecting  me,"  said  he. 
"  I  will  keep  your  secret." 

"  Phil,"  said  Mr.  Wilbur,  in  a  tragic  tone,  "  you 
may  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  am  in  love  !" 

Phil  started  and  wanted  to  laugh,  but  Mr.  Wil- 
bur's serious,  earnest  look  restrained  him. 

"  Ain't  you  rather  young  ?"  he  ventured  to  say. 


88  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  No ;  I  am  nineteen,"  answered  Mr.  Wilbur. 
"  The  heart  makes  no  account  of  years." 

"Whether  this  was  original  or  borrowed,  Phil  could 
not  tell. 

"  Have  you  been  in  love  long  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"  Three  weeks." 
,  "  Does  the  lady  know  it  ?" 

"  Not  yet,"  returned  Mr.  Wilbur.  "  I  have  wor- 
shiped her  from  afar.  I  have  never  even  spoken  to 
her." 

"Then  the  matter  hasn't  gone  very  far?" 

"No,  not  yet." 

"  Where  did  you  meet  her  first  ?" 

"  In  a  Broadway  stage." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"  You  don't  know  much  about  her,  then  ?" 

"  Yes ;  I  know  where  she  lives." 

"Where?" 

"  On  Lexington  Avenue." 

"Whereabouts?" 

"Between  Twenty-ninth  and  Thirtieth  Streets. 
Would  you  like  to  see  her  house  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Phil,  who  saw  that  Mr.  Wilbur 
wished  him  so  to  answer. 

"  Then  come  out.     We  might  see  her." 

The  two  boys — for  Mr.  Wilbur,  though  he  consid- 
ered himself  a  young  man  of  large  experience,  was 
really  scarcely  more  than  a  boy — bent  their  steps  to 


PHW8  NEW  HOME.  89 

Lexington  Avenue,  and  walked  in  a  northerly  direc- 
tion. 

They  had  reached  Twenty-eighth  Street,  when  the 
door  of  house  farther  up  on  the  avenue  was  opened 
and  a  lady  came  out. 

"  That's  she !"  ejaculated  Mr.  "Wilbur,  clutching 
Phil  by  the  arm. 

Phil  looked,  and  saw  a  taU  young  lady,  three  or 
four  inches  taller  than  his  friend  and  as  many  years 
older.    He  looked  at  his  companion  with  surprise. 

"  Is  that  the  young  lady  you  are  in  love  with  ?" 
he  asked. 

"Yes;  isn't  she  a  daisy?"  asked  the  lover  fer- 
vently. 

"  I  am  not  much  of  a  judge  of  daisies,*  answered 
Phil,  a  little  embarrassed,  for  the  young  lady  had 
large  features,  and  was,  in  his  eyes,  very  (••■  from 
pretty. 


dr  TES  EIOLAMD  £07, 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

**  CONSULTING  THE   OKACLE. 

PHIL  did  not  like  to  hurt  the  feelings  of  his  com. 
panion,  and  refrained  from  laughing,  though 
with  difficulty. 

"  She  doesn't  appear  to  know  you,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  Wilbur ;  "  I  haven't  had  a  chance  to 
make  myself  known  to  her." 

"  Do  you  think  you  can  make  a  favorable  impres- 
sion upon — the  daisy  ?"  asked  Phil,  outwardly  sober, 
but  inwardly  amused. 

"  I  always  had  a  taking  way  with  girls,"  rephed 
Mr.  "WUbur  complacently. 

Phil  coughed.  It  was  all  that  saved  him  from 
laughing. 

While  he  was  struggling  with  the  inclination,  the 
lady  inadvertently  dropped  a  smaU  parcel  which  she 
had  been  carrying  in  her  hand.  The  two  boys  were 
close  behind.  Like  an  arrow  from  the  bow  Mr.  Wil- 
bur sprang  forward,  picked  up  the  parcel,  and  while 
his  heart  beat  wildly,  said,  as  he  tendered  it  to  the 
owner,  with  a  graceful  bow  and  captivating  smile : 

•'  Miss,  I  believe  you  dropped  this." 


CONSULTING  THE  ORACLE.  91 

"  Thank  you,  ray  good  boy,"  answered  the  daisy 
pleasantly. 

Mr.  Wilbur  staggered  back  as  if  he  had  been 
struck.  He  feU  back  in  discomfiture,  and  his  face 
showed  the  mortification  and  anguish  he  felt. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  she  said  ?"  he  asked,  in  a 
hollow  voice. 

"  She  called  you  a  boy,  didn't  she  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr.  "Wilbur  sadly. 

"  Perhaps  she  may  be  near-sighted,"  said  Phil  con- 
solingly. 

"  Do  you  think  so  ?"  asked  Mr.  Wilbur  hopefully. 

"It  is  quite  possible.  Then  you  are  short,  you 
know." 

"  Yes,  it  must  be  so,"  said  G.  Washington  Wilbur, 
his  face  more  serene.  "  If  she  hadn't  been  she  would 
have  noticed  my  mustache." 

"True." 

"  She  spoke  kindly.  If — if  she  had  seen  how  old  I 
was,  it  would  have  been  different,  don't  you  think 
so?" 

"Yes,  no  doubt." 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,"  said  Mr.  Wilbur, 
in  a  tone  of  calm  resolve. 

"  What  is  that  ?"  inquired  Phil,  in  some  curiosity. 

"  I  must  wear  a  stove-pipe  hat !  As  you  say,  I  am 
small,  and  a  near-sighted  person  might  easily  sup- 
pose me  to  be  younger  than  I  am.  Now,  with  a 
stove-pipe  hat  I  shall  look  much  older." 


19  TEE  ERRAND  EOT, 

"  Yes,  I  presume  so." 

"Then  I  can  make  her  acquaintance  again,  and 
she  will  not  mistake  me.  Phil,  why  don't  you  wear 
a  stove-pipe  ?" 

"  Because  I  don't  want  to  look  any  older  than  I 
am.  Besides,  an  errand-boy  wouldn't  look  well  in  a 
tall  hat." 

"]N"o,  perhaps  not." 

"And  Mr.  Pitkin  would  hardly  Hke  it.'* 

"  Of  course.  "When  you  are  a  salesman  like  me  it 
will  be  different." 

Mr.  "Wilbur  was  beginning  to  recover  his  com- 
placency, which  had  been  so  rudely  disturbed. 

"  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  think  of  marrying  on 
your  present  salary  ?"  said  Phil.  "  Six  dollars  a 
fveek  wouldn't  support  a  married  pair  very  well." 

"  The  firm  would  raise  my  salary.  They  always 
do  when  a  man  marries.  Besides,  I  have  other  re- 
sources." 

"Indeed?" 

"  Yes ;  I  am  worth  two  thousand  dollars.  It  was 
left  me  by  an  aunt,  and  is  kept  in  trust  for  me  until 
I  am  twenty-one.     I  receive  the  interest  now." 

"  I  congratulate  you,"  said  Phil,  who  was  really 
pleased  to  hear  of  his  companion's  good  fortune. 
"  That  money  will  come  in  handy." 

"  Besides,  I  expect  sTie^s  got  money,"  continued 
Mr.  "Wilbur.  "Of  course,  I  love  her  for  herself 
alone — I  am  not  mercenary — ^still,  it  will  be  a  help 
when  we  are  married." 


CONSULTING  THE  ORACLE.  93 

"  So  it  will,"  said  Phil,  amused  at  the  confident 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Wilbur  spoke  of  marriage  with 
a  lady  of  whom  he  knew  absolutely  nothing. 

**  Philip,"  said  Mr.  Wilbur,  "  when  I  marry,  I  want 
you  to  stand  up  with  me — to  be  my  groomsman." 

"  If  I  am  in  the  city,  and  can  afford  to  buy  a 
dress-suit,  I  might  consent." 

"  Thank  you.  You  are  a  true  friend !"  said  Mr. 
Wilbur,  squeezing  his  hand  fervently. 

The  two  returned  to  Mr.  Wilbur's  room  and  had  a 
chat.  At  an  early  hour  Phil  returned  to  his  own 
boarding-place. 

As  time  passed  on,  Phil  and  Wilbur  spent  consid- 
erable time  together  out  of  the  store.  Mr.  G.  Wash- 
ington Wilbur,  apart  from  his  amusing  traits,  was  a 
youth  of  good  principles  and  good  disposition,  and 
Phil  was  glad  of  his  company.  Sometimes  they 
went  to  cheap  amusements,  but  not  often,  for  neither 
had  money  to  spare  for  such  purposes. 

Some  weeks  after  Phil's  entrance  upon  his  duties 
Mr.  Wilbur  made  a  proposal  to  Phil  of  a  startHng 
nature. 

"  Suppose  we  have  our  fortunes  told,  Phil  ?"  he  said. 

"  If  it  would  help  my  fortune,  or  hurry  it  up,  I 
shouldn't  object,"  said  Phil,  smiling. 

"  I  want  to  know  what  fate  has  in  store  for  me," 
said  Wilbur. 

"  Do  you  think  the  fortune-tellers  know  any  better 
than  you  do  ?"  asked  Phil  incredulously. 


94  TEE  EBBAND  BOY. 

"  They  tell  some  strange  things,"  said  "Wilbur. 

"What,  for  instance?" 

"An  aunt  of  mine  went  to  a  fortune-teller  and 
asked  if  she  would  ever  be  married,  and  when  ?  She 
was  told  that  she  would  be  married  before  she  was 
twenty-two,  to  a  tall,  light-complexioned  man." 

"  Did  it  come  true  ?" 

^'Tes,  every  word,"  said  Mr,  Wilbur  solemnly. 
"  She  was  married  three  months  before  her  twenty- 
second  birthday,  and  her  husband  was  just  the 
kind  of  man  that  was  predicted.  Wasn't  that 
strange  ?" 

"  The  fortune-teller  might  easily  have  guessed  all 
that.     Most  girls  are  married  as  young  as  that." 

"But  not  to  tall,  light-complexioned  men?"  said 
Wilbur  triumphantly. 

"  Is  there  anything  you  wish  particularly  to 
know  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"  I  should  like  to  know  if  I  am  going  to  marry — 
you  know  who." 

"The  daisy?" 

"  Yes." 

Phil  was  not  much  in  favor  of  the  scheme,  but 
finally  agreed  to  it. 

There  was  a  certain  "  Veiled  Lady,"  who  adver- 
tised her  qualifications  in  the  Herald,  as  the  seventh 
daughter  of  a  seventh  daughter,  and  therefore 
gifted  with  the  power  to  read  the  future.  Mr.  Wil- 
bur made  choice  of  her,  and  together  they  went  to 
call  upon  her  one  evening.^ 


CONSULTING  TEE  ORACLE.  95 

They  were  shown  into  an  anteroom,  and  in  due 
time  Mr.  "Wilbur  was  called  into  the  dread  presence. 
He  was  somewhat  nervous  and  agitated,  but "  braced 
up,"  as  he  afterward  expressed  it,  and  went  in.  He 
wanted  Phil  to  go  in  with  him,  but  the  attendant 
said  that  madam  would  not  allow  it,  and  he  went 
forward  alone. 

Fifteen  minutes  afterward  he  re-entered  the  room 
with  a  radiant  face. 

"  Have  you  heard  good  news  V  asked  Phil. 

Mr.  Wilbur  nodded  emphatically  and  whispered, 
for  there  were  two  others  in  waiting : 

'^  It's  all  right.     I  am  to  marry  her.''' 

"  Did  the  fortune-teller  say  so  ?" 

«  Yes." 

"  Did  she  give  her  name  ?" 

"  No,  but  she  described  her  so  that  I  knew  her  at 
once." 

"Will  it  be  soon?"  asked  Phil  slyly. 

"  Not  till  I  am  twenty-four,"  answered  Mr.  Wil- 
bur soberly.  *  But  perhaps  she  may  be  mistaken 
about  that.  Perhaps  she  thought  I  was  older  than 
1  am." 

"  Do  you  doubt  her  knowledge,  then  ?" 

"  No ;  at  any  rate,  I  can  wait,  since  she  is  to  be 
mine  at  last.  Besides,  I  am  to  be  rich.  When  I  am 
thirty  years  old  I  am  to  be  worth  twenty  thousand 
dollars." 

"  I  congratulate  you,  Wilbur,"  saia  Fhil,  smiling. 
"  You  are  all  right,  at  least." 


96  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

"  The  next  gentleman !"  said  the  attendant. 

Phil  entered  the  inner  room,  and  looked  about 
him  in  curiosity. 

A  tall  woman  sat  upon  a  sort  of  throne,  with  one 
hand  resting  on  a  table  beside  her.  A  tall  wax- 
taper  supplied  the  place  of  the  light  of  day,  which 
was  studiously  excluded  from  the  room  by  thick, 
dark  curtains.  Over  the  woman's  face  was  a  black 
veil,  which  gave  her  an  air  of  mystery. 

"Come  hither,  boy!"  she  said,  in  a  clear,  com- 
manding voice. 

Phil  advanced,  not  wholly  unimpressed,  though  he 
felt  skeptical 

The  woman  bent  forward,  starting  sligktly  and 
scanned  his  face  eagerly. 


PHIL  AND  THE  FORTUNE-TELLER.  97 


CHAPTER  XY. 

PHIL  AND  THE   FORTUNE-TELLEE. 

DO  YOU  wish  to  hear  of  the  past  or  the  future  ?" 
asked  the  fortune-teller. 

"  Tell  me  something  of  the  past,"  said  Phil,  with 
a  view  of  testing  the  knowledge  of  the  seeress. 

"  You  have  left  an  uncongenial  home  to  seek  your 
fortune  in  New  York.  You  left  without  regret,  and 
those  whom  you  have  left  behind  do  not  miss  you." 

Phil  started  in  amazement.  This  was  certainly 
true. 

"  Shall  I  find  the  fortune  I  seek  ?"  askea  our  hero 
earnestly. 

"  Yes,  but  not  in  the  way  you  expect.  You  think 
yourself  alone  in  the  world !" 

The  fortune-teller  paused,  and  looked  searchingly 
at  the  boy. 

"  So  I  am,"  returned  Phil. 

"No  boy  who  has  a  father  living  can  consider 
himself  alone." 

"My  father  is  dead!"  returned  Phil,  growing 
skeptical. 

"  You  are  mistaken." 


98  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  I  am  not  likely  to  be  mistaken  in  such  a  matter. 
My  father  died  a  few  months  since." 

"  Your  father  still  lives !"  said  the  fortune-teller 
sharply.     "  Do  not  contradict  me !" 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  can  say  that.  I  attended 
his  funeral." 

"You  attended  the  funeral  of  the  man  whose 
name  you  bear.    He  was  not  your  father." 

Phil  was  much  excited  by  this  confirmation  of  his 
step-mother's  story.  He  had  entertained  serious 
doubts  of  its  being  true,  thinking  it  might  have  been 
trumped  up  by  Mrs.  Brent  to  drive  him  from  home, 
and  interfere  with  his  succession  to  any  part  of  Mr. 
Brent's  property. 

"  Is  my  step-mother's  story  true,  then  ?"  he  asked 
breathlessly.  ,"  She  told  me  I  was  not  the  son  of 
Mr.  Brent." 

"  Her  story  was  true,"  said  the  veiled  lady. 

"  Who  is  my  real  father,  then  ?" 

The  lady  did  not  immediately  reply.  She 
seemed  to  be  peering  into  distant  space,  as  she  said 
slowly : 

"  I  see  a  man  of  middle  size,  dark-complexioned, 
leading  a  smaU  child  by  the  hand.  He  pauses  before 
a  house — it  looks  like  an  inn.  A  lady  comes  out 
from  the  inn.  She  is  kindly  of  aspect.  She  takes 
the  child  by  the  hand  and  leads  him  into  the  inn. 
Now  I  see  the  man  go  away — alone.  The  little 
child  remains  behind.     I  see  him  growing  up.     He 


PHIL  AND  THE  FORTUNE-TELLER.  ^9 

has  become  a  large  boy,  but  the  scene  has  changed. 
The  inn  has  disappeared.  I  see  a  pleasant  village 
and  a  comfortable  house.  The  boy  stands  at  the 
door.  He  is  well-grown  now.  A  lady  stands  on  the 
threshold  as  his  steps  turn  away.  She  is  thin  and 
sharp-faced.  She  is  not  like  the  lady  who  welcomed 
the  little  child.  Can  you  teU  me  who  this  boy  is  ?" 
asked  the  fortune-teller,  fixing  her  eyes  upon  Phil. 

"  It  is  myself!"  he  answers,  his  flushed  face  show- 
ing the  excitement  he  felt. 

"  You  have  said !" 

"  I  don't  know  how  you  have  learned  aU  this," 
said  Phil,  "  but  it  is  wonderfully  exact.  "Will  you 
answer  a  question  ?" 

"Ask!" 

"  You  say  my  father — my  real  father — is  living  ?" 

The  veiled  lady  bowed  her  head. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  That  I  cannot  say,  but  he  is  looking  for  you." 

"  He  is  in  search  of  me  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  "Why  has  he  delayed  it  so  long  ?" 

"  There  are  circumstances  which  I  cannot  explain 
which  have  prevented  his  seeking  and  claiming 
you." 

"Will  he  do  so?" 

"  I  have  told  you  that  he  is  now  seeking  for  you. 
I  think  he  will  find  you  at  last." 

"  "What  can  I  do  to  bring  this  about  ?" 


100  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Do  nothing !  Stay  where  you  are.  Circum- 
stances are  working  favorably,  but  you  must  wait. 
There  are  some  drawbacks." 

"What  are  they?" 

"You  have  two  enemies,  or  rather  one,  for  the 
other  does  not  count." 

"  Is  that  enemy  a  man  ?" 

"ISTo,  it  is  a  woman." 

"  My  step-mother !"  ejaculated  Phil,  with  imme- 
diate conviction. 

"  You  have  guessed  aright." 

"  And  who  is  the  other  ?" 

"A  boy." 

"  Jonas  ?" 

"  It  is  the  son  of  the  woman  whom  you  call  your 
step-mother." 

"  What  harm  can  they  do  me  ?  I  am  not  afraid 
of  them,"  said  Phil,  raising  his  head  proudly. 

"  Do  not  be  too  confident !  The  meanest  are 
capable  of  harm.  Mrs.  Brent  does  not  like  you 
because  she  is  a  mother." 

•*  She  fears  that  I  will  interfere  with  her  son." 

"  You  are  all  right." 

"  Is  there  anything  more  you  can  teU  me  ?"  asked 
Phil.     "  Have  I  any  other  enemies  ?" 

"  Yes;  there  are  two  more— also  a  woman  and  h^ 
son." 

"  That  puzzles  me.     I  can  think  of  no  one." 

"  They  live  in  the  city." 


PHIL  AND  THE  FORTUNE-TELLER.  101 

**  I  know.  It  is  Mrs.  Pitkin,  my  employer's  wife. 
WThy  should  she  dislike  me  ?" 

"  There  is  an  old  man  who  likes  you.  That  is  the 
cause." 

"  I  see.  She  doesn't  want  him  to  be  kind  to  any 
one  out  of  the  family." 

"  That  is  all  I  have  to  teU'you,"  said  the  fortune- 
teller abruptly.    "  You  can  go." 

"  You  have  told  me  strange  things,"  said  PhiL 
"  Will  you  tell  me  how  it  is  you  know  so  much  about 
a  stranger  2" 

"  I  have  nothing  more  to  tell  you.  Yott  can  go  I" 
said  the  veiled  lady  impatiently. 

"  At  least  tell  me  how  much  I  am  to  pay  you." 

"Nothing." 

"  But  I  thought  you  received  fees," 

"  Not  from  you." 

"  Did  you  not  take  something  from  my  friend  vi\i» 
was  in  here  before  me  2" 

"Yes." 

"  You  told  him  a  good  fortune." 

"  He  is  a  fool !"  said  the  fortune-teller  oontemptih 
ously.  "I  saw  what  he  wanted  and  predicted 
it." 

She  waved  her  hand,  and  Phil  felt  that  he  had  ne 
excuse  for  remaining  longer. 

He  left  the  room  slowly,  and  found  Mr.  Wilbnr 
anxiously  awaiting  him. 

""What  did  she  tell  you,  Phil  ?"  he  asked  eagerly. 


108  THE  ERRAND  ROT. 

*•  Did  sVe  tell  you  what  sort  of  a  wife  you  would 
haver 

"  No.    I  didn't  ask  her,"  answered  Phil,  smiling. 

"  I  should  think  you'd  want  to  know.  What  did 
she  tell  you,  then  ?" 

"  She  told  me  quite  a  number  of  things  about  my 
past  life  and  the  events  of  my  childhood." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  cared  about  that,"  said  Wilbur, 
shrugging  his  shoulders.  "  Why,  I  know  all  about 
that  myself.  What  I  want  to  know  about  is, 
whether  I  am  to  marry  the  girl  I  adore." 

"  But  you  see,  Wilbur,  I  don't  adore  anybody.  I 
am  not  in  love  as  you  are." 

"  Of  course  that  makes  a  difference,"  said  Wilbur. 
**  I'm  glad  I  came,  Phil.    Ain't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  answered  Phil  slowly. 

"  You  see,  it's  such  a  satisfaction  to  know  that  all 
is  coming  right  at  last.  I  am  to  marry  her,  you 
know,  and  although  it  isn't  till  I  am  twenty- 
four " 

"  She  will  be  nearly  thirty  by  that  time,"  said  Phii 

slyly. 

"  She  won't  look  it !"  said  Mr.  Wilbur,  wincing  a 
little.  "  When  I  am  thirty  I  shall  be  worth  twenty 
thousand  dollars." 

"  You  can't  save  it  very  soon  out  of  six  dollars  a 
week." 

"  That  is  true.  I  feel  sure  I  shall  be  raised  soon. 
Did  the  fortune-teller  say  anythimg  about  your  get* 
ting  rich  ?" 


PHIL  AND  THE  FOBTUNE-IELLEB.  103 

"  Ko.  I  can't  remember  that  she  did.  Oh,  yes ! 
she  said  I  would  make  my  fortune,  but  not  in  the 
way  I  expected." 

"That  is  queer!"  said  Mr.  Wilbur,  interested. 
**  What  could  she  mean  ?" 

"  I  suppose  she  meant  that  I  would  not  save  a 
competence  out  of  five  dollars  a  week." 

*'  Maybe  so." 

"  I  have  been  thinking,  Wilbur,  you  have  an  ad- 
vantage over  the  young  lady  you  are  to  marry.  You 
imow  that  you  are  to  marry  her,  but  she  doesn't 
know  who  is  to  be  her  husband." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Wilbur  seriously.  "  If  I  can 
find  out  her  name,  I  will  write  her  an  anonymous 
setter,  asking  her  to  call  on  the  veiled  lady." 


3M  THE  ERRAND  EOT, 


CHAPTER  XVL 

MB8.   BEENt's  strange  TEMPTATION. 

NOW  THAT  Phil  is  fairly  established  in  the 
city,  circumstances  require  us  to  go  back  to 
the  country  town  which  he  had  once  called  home. 

Mrs.  Brent  is  sitting,  engaged  with  her  needle,  in 
the  same  room  where  she  had  made  the  important 
revelation  to  Phil. 

Jonas  entered  the  house,  stamping  the  snow  from 
his  boots. 

"  Is  supper  most  ready,  mother  ?"  he  asked. 

**  No,  Jonas ;  it  is  only  four  o'clock,"  replied  Mrs. 
Brent. 

**  Pm  as  hungry  as  a  bear.  I  guess  it's  the  skat^ 
mg.'' 

**  1  wish  you  would  go  to  the  post-office  before 
fopper,  Jonas.    There  might  be  i  letter." 

**Do  yon  expect  to  hear  from  Phil?" 

**He  said  nothing  about  writing,"  sfid  Mrz.  Brent 
indifferently.    "  He  will  do  as  he  pleases  about  it.' 

"I  did't  know  but  he  would  be  ^vriting  for 
money,"  chuckled  Jonas. 

"  If  he  did,  I  would  send  him  some,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent. 


MRS.  BRENT'S  STRANG E  TEMPTATION.        105 

"  You  would !"  repeated  Jonas,  looking  at  kis 
mother  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  I  would  send  him  a  dollar  or  two,  so  that 
people  needn't  talk.  It  is  always  best  to  avoid 
gossip." 

"Are  you  expecting  a  letter  from  anybody, 
mother  ?"  asked  Jonas,  after  a  pause. 

"I  dreamed  last  night  I  should  receive  an  im- 
Dortant  letter,"  said  Mrs.  Brent. 

"  "With  money  in  it  ?"  asked  Jonas  eagerly, 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  If  any  such  letter  comes,  will  you  give  me  some 
of  the  money  ?" 

"  If  you  bring  me  a  letter  containing  money,"  said 
Mrs.  Brent,  "  I  will  give  you  a  doUar." 

"  Enough  said !"  exclaimed  Jonas,  who  was  fond 
of  money;  "  I'm  off  to  the  post-office  at  once." 

Mrs.  Brent  let  the  work  faU  into  her  lap  and 
looked  intently  before  her.  A  flush  appeared  on 
her  pale  face,  and  she  showed  signs  of  restlessness. 

"  It  is  strange,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  how  I  have 
allowed  myself  to  be  affected  by  that  dream.  I  am 
not  superstitious,  but  I  cannot  get  over  the  idea  that 
a  letter  will  reach  me  to-night,  and  that  it  will  have 
an  important  bearing  upon  my  hfe.  I  have  a  feel- 
ing, too,  that  it  "vvill  relate  to  the  boy  Philip." 

She  rose  from  her  seat  and  began  to  move  about 
the  room.  It  was  a  relief  to  her  in  the  restless  state 
of  her  mind.     She  went  to  the  window  to  look  for 


X06  TEE  ERRAND  BOY, 

Jonas,  and  her  excitement  rose  as  she  saw  hun  ap- 
proaching. When  he  saw  his  mother  looking  from 
the  window,  he  held  aloft  a  letter. 

"  The  letter  has  come,"  she  said,  her  heart  beat- 
ing faster  than  its  wont.  "  It  is  an  important  letter. 
How  slow  Jonas  is." 

And  she  was  inclined  to  be  vexed  at  the  dehbera- 
tion  with  which  her  son  was  advancing  toward  the 
house. 

But  he  came  at  last. 

"  WeU,  mother,  I've  got  a  letter — a  letter  from 
Philadelphia,"  he  said.  "  It  isn't  from  Phil,  for  I 
know  his  writing." 

"  Give  it  to  me,  Jonas,"  said  his  mother,  outwardly 
cahn,  but  inwardly  excited. 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  in  Philadelphia,  mother  ?" 
.     "No." 

She  cut  open  the  envelope  and  withdrew  the  in- 
closed sheet. 

"  Is  there  any  money  in  it  ?"  asked  Jonas  eagerly. 

''  No." 

"  Just  my  luck !"  said  Jonas  sullenly. 

"  "Wait  a  minute,"  said  his  mother.  "  If  the  letter 
is  really  important,  I'U  give  you  twenty-five 
cents." 

She  read  the  letter,  and  her  manner  soon  showed 
that  she  was  deeply  interested. 

"We  will  look  over  her  shoulders  and  read  it  with 
her: 


MBS,  BRENT'S  STRANGE  TEMPTATION.        lO? 

"  Continental  Hotel,  Philadelphia,  Feb.  5. 

"  Dear  Madam  : — I  ^vrite  to  you  on  a  matter  of 
the  greatest  importance  to  my  happiness,  and  shall 
most  anxiously  await  your  reply,  i  would  come  to 
you  in  person,  but  am  laid  up  with  an  attack  of 
rheumatism,  and  my  physician  forbids  me  to  travel. 

"  You  are,  as  I  have  been  informed,  the  widow  of 
Gerald  Brent,  who  thirteen  years  since  kept  a  small 
hotel  in  the  small  village  of  FultonviUe,  in  Ohio. 
At  that  date  I  one  day  registered  myself  as  his 
guest.  I  was  not  alone.  My  only  son,  then  a  boy 
of  three,  accompanied  me.  My  wife  was  dead,  and 
my  affections  centered  upon  this  child.  Yet  th& 
next  morning  I  left  him  under  the  charge  of  your- 
self and  your  husband,  and  pursued  my  journey. 
From  that  day  to  this  I  have  not  seen  the  boy,  nor 
have  I  written  to  you  or  Mr.  Brent.  This  seems 
strange,  does  it  not?  It  requires  an  explanation, 
and  that  explanation  I  am  ready  to  give. 

"  To  be  brief,  then,  I  was  fleeing  from  undeserved 
suspicion.  Circumstances  which  I  need  not  detail 
had  connected  my  name  with  the  mysterious  dis- 
appearance of  a  near  friend,  and  the  fact  that  a 
trifling  dispute  between  us  had  taken  place  in  the 
presence  of  witnesses  had  strengthened  their  sus- 
picions. Knowing  myself  to  be  innocent,  but  unable 
to  prove  it,  I  fled,  taking  my  child  with  me.  "When 
I  reached  FultonviUe,  I  became  alive  to  the  ease  with 
which  I  might  be  traced,  through  the  child's  com- 
panionship. There  was  no  resource  but  to  leave 
him.  Your  husband  and  yourself  impressed  me  as 
kind  and  warm-hearted.  I  was  specially  impressed 
by  the  gentleness  with  which  3'^ou  treated  my  little 
Philip,  and  I  felt  that  to  you  I  could  safely  trust 
him.  I  did  not,  however,  dare  to  confide  my  secret 
to  any  one.  I  simply  said  I  would  leave  the  boy 
with  you  tUl  he  should  recover  from  his  temporary 


108  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

indisposition,  and  then,  with  outward  cabnness  but 
inward  anguish,  I  left  my  darling,  knowing  not  if  I 
should  ever  see  him  again. 

"  "Well,  time  passed.  I  went  to  Nevada,  changed 
TCLj  name,  invested  the  slender  sum  I  had  with  me  in 
mining,  and,  after  varying  fortune,  made  a  large 
fortune  at  last.  But  better  fortune  still  awaited  me. 
In  a  poor  mining  hut,  two  months  since,  I  came 
across  a  man  who  confessed  that  he  was  guilty  of  the 
murder  of  which  I  had  been  suspected.  His  con- 
fession was  reduced  in  writing,  sworn  to  before  a 
magistrate,  and  now  at  last  I  feel  myself  a  free  man. 
No  one  now  could  charge  me  with  a  crime  from 
which  my  soul  revolted. 

"  When  this  matter  was  concluded,  my  first 
thought  was  of  the  boy  whom  I  had  not  seen  for 
thirteen  long  years.  I  could  claim  him  now  before 
all  the  world ;  I  could  endow  him  with  the  gifts  of 
fortune ;  I  could  bring  him  up  in  luxury,  and  I  could 
satisfy  a  father's  affectionate  longing.  I  could  not 
immediately  ascertain  where  you  were.  I  wrote  to 
Fulton ville,  to  the  postmaster,  and  learned  that  you 
and  Mr.  Brent  had  moved  away  and  settled  down  in 
Gresham,  in  the  State  of  New  York.  I  learned 
also  that  my  Philip  was  stiU  living,  but  other  details 
I  did  not  learn.  But  I  cared  not,  so  long  as  my  boy 
stiU  lived. 

"  And  now  you  may  guess  my  wish  and  my  inten- 
tion. I  shall  pay  you  handsomely  for  your  kind 
care  of  Philip,  but  I  must  have  my  boy  back  again. 
We  have  been  separated  too  long.  I  can  well  under- 
stand that  you  are  attached  to  him,  and  I  will  find 
a  home  for  you  and  Mr.  Brent  near  my  own,  where 
you  can  see  as  often  as  you  Uke  the  boy  whom  you 
have  so  tenderly  reared.  Will  you  do  me  the  favor 
to  come  at  once,  and  bring  the  boy  with  you  ?  The 
expenses  of  your  journey  shall,  of  course,  be  re- 


MBS.  BRENT'S  STRANGE  TEMPTATION.       109 

imbursed,  and  I  will  take  care  that  the  pecuniary 

fart  of  my  obhgations  to  you  shall  be  amply  repaid, 
have  already  explained  why  I  cannot  come  in  per 
son  to  claim  my  dear  child. 

"  Telegraph  to  me  when  you  will  reach  Pliiladel- 
phia,  and  I  will  engage  a  room  for  you.  Philip  will 
stay  with  me.     Yours  gratefully, 

"  OscAK  Gkanville." 

"  Mother,  here  is  a  slip  of  paper  that  has  dropped 
from  the  letter,"  said  Jonas. 

He  picked  up  and  handed  to  his  mother  a  check 
on  a  Philadelphia  bank  for  the  sum  of  one  hundred 
dollars. 

''  Why,  that's  the  same  as  money,  isn't  it?"  asked 
Jonas. 

"  Yes,  Jonas." 

''  Then  you'll  keep  your  promise,  won't  you  ?" 

Mrs.  Brent  silently  drew  from  her  pocket-book  a 
two-dollar  bill  and  handed  it  to  Jonas. 

"Jonas,"  she  said,  "  if  you  won't  breathe  a  word 
of  it,  I  will  tell  you  a  secret." 

"  All  right,  mother." 

"  "We  start  for  Philadelphia  to-morrow." 

"  By  gosh !  that's  jolly,"  exclaimed  Jonas,  over- 
joyed. "  I'll  keep  mum.  What  was  in  the  letter, 
mother  ?" 

"  I  will  not  tell  you  just  now.  You  shall  know 
very  soon." 

Mrs.  Brent  did  not  sleep  much  that  night.  Her 
mind  was  intent  upon  a  daring  scheme  of  imposture. 


1 10  TEE  ERRAND  BO  7. 

Mr.  Granville  was  immensely  wealthy,  no  doubt. 
Why  should  she  not  pass  off  Jonas  upon  him  as  his 
son  Philip,  and  thus  secure  a  fortune  for  her  own 
child? 


JONAS  JOINS  THE  C0NSPIBAG7.  HI 


CHAPTER  XYII. 

JONAS   JOINS   THE   CONSPIRACY. 

LATER  in  the  evening  Mrs.  Brent  took  Jonas 
into  her  confidence.  She  was  a  silent,  secre- 
tive woman  by  nature,  and  could  her  plan  have  been 
carried  out  without  unparting  it  to  any  one,  she 
would  gladly  have  had  it  so.  But  Jonas  must  be  her 
active  accompHce,  and  it  was  as  well  to  let  him  know 
at  once  what  he  must  do. 

In  the  evening,  when  Jonas,  tired  with  his  day's 
skating,  was  lying  on  the  lounge,  Mrs.  Brent  rose  de- 
hberately  from  her  seat,  peeped  into  the  adjoining 
room,  then  went  to  each  window  to  make  sure  there 
was  no  eavesdropper,  then  resumed  her  seat  and 
said: 

"  Jonas,  get  up.     I  want  to  speak  to  you." 

'•  I  am  awfully  tired,  mother.  I  can  hear  you 
while  I  lie  here." 

"  Jonas,  do  you  hear  me  ?  I  am  about  to  speak  to 
you  of  something  no  other  person  must  hear.  Get  a 
chair  and  draw  it  close  to  mine." 

Jonas  rose,  his  curiosity  stimulated  by  his  moth 
er's  words  and  manner. 

"  Is  it  about  the  letter,  mother  ?"  he  asked. 


113  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Yes,  it  relates  to  the  letter  and  our  journey  to- 
morrow." 

Jonas  had  wondered  what  the  letter  was  about 
and  who  had  sent  his  mother  the  hundred-dollar 
check,  and  he  made  no  further  objection.  He  drew 
a  chair  in  front  of  his  mother  and  said : 

"  Go  ahead,  mother,  I'm  hstening." 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  rich,  Jonas  1"  asked  Mrs. 
Brent. 

"Wouldn't  I?" 

"  Would  you  like  to  be  adopted  by  a  very  rich 
man,  have  a  pony  to  ride,  plenty  of  pocket-money, 
fine  clothes  and  in  the  end  a  large  fortune  ?" 

"  That  would  just  suit  me,  mother,"  answered  the 
boy  eagerly.     "  Is  there  any  chance  of  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  you  foUow  my  directions  impMcitly." 

"  I  win,  mother,"  said  Jonas,  his  eyes  shining  with 
desire.     "  Only  teU  me  what  to  do  and  I'll  do  it." 

"  Do  you  remember  what  I  told  Philip  the  evening 
before  he  went  away  ?" 

"  About  his  being  left  at  Mr.  Brent's  hotel  ?  Yes, 
X  remember  it." 

"  And  about  his  true  father  having  disappeared  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes." 

"  Jonas,  the  letter  I  received  this  afternoon  was 
from  Philip's  real  father." 

"  By  gosh !"  ejaculated  Jonas,  altering  his  usual 
expression  of  surprise. 

"  He  is  in  Philadelphia.     He  is  a  very  rich  man." 


^ 


JONAS  JOINS  TEE  CONSPIBAGT.  U9 

"  Then  Phil  will  be  rich,"  said  Jonas,  disappointed. 
"  I  thought  you  said  it  would  be  me." 

*'  Philip's  father  has  never  seen  him  since  he  wae 
three  years  old,"  continued  Mrs.  Brent,  taking  no 
notice  of  her  son's  tone. 

"  What  difference  does  that  make,  mother  ?" 

"Jonas,"  said  Mrs.  Brent,  bending  toward  her  son, 
"  if  I  choose  to  tell  him  that  you  are  Philip,  he 
won't  know  the  difference.    Do  you  understand  f* 

Jonas  did  understand. 

*•  That's  a  bully  idea,  mother !  Can  we  pull  the 
wool  over  the  old  man's  eyes,  do  you  think  2" 

"  I  wish  you  would  not  use  such  expressions,  Jonas. 
They  are  not  gentlemanly,  and  you  are  to  be  a  young 
gentleman." 

"  All  right,  mother." 

"  We  can  manage  it  if  you  are  very  carefuL  It  is 
worth  the  trouble,  Jonas.  I  think  Mr.  Granville — 
that  is  his  name — ^must  be  worth  a  quarter  of  a  mil- 
lion dollars,  and  if  he  takes  you  for  Philip  the  whole 
will  probably  go  to  you." 

"  What  a  head  you've  got,  mother  !'*  exclaimed 
Jonas  admiringly.    "  It  is  a  tip-top  chance." 

"  Tes,  it  is  one  chance  in  ten  thousand.  But  yon 
must  do  just  as  I  tell  you." 

«  Oh,  I'll  do  that,  mother.    What  must  I  do  V 

"  To  begin  with,  you  must  take  Phihp's  name. 
Yon  must  remember  that  you  are  no  longer  Jonas 
Webb,  but  PhiUp  Brent." 


114  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 

"  That'll  be  a  bully  joke !"  said  Jonas,  very  much 
amused.  "  What  would  Phil  say  if  he  knew  I  had 
taken  his  name  ?" 

"  He  must  not  know.  Henceforth  we  must  en- 
deavor to  keep  out  of  his  way.  Again,  you  must 
consider  me  your  step -mother,  not  your  own 
mother." 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  What  are  you  going  to  do 
first,  mother  ?" 

"We  start  for  Philadelphia  to-morrow.  Your 
father  is  lying  sick  at  the  Continental  Hotel." 

Jonas  roared  with  delight  at  the  manner  in  which 
his  mother  spoke  of  the  sick  stranger. 

"  Oh,  it'll  be  fun,  motherl  Shall  we  live  in  Phila- 
delphia ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  That  wiU  be  as  Mr.  Granville 
thinks  best." 

"  Where  are  you  going,  mother  ?  Are  you  going 
to  live  here  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  shall  be  with  you.  I  will  make  that 
a  condition.   I  cannot  be  parted  from  my  only  boy," 

"  But  I  shall  be  Mr.  GranviUe's  boy." 

"  To  the  public  you  will  be.  But  when  we  are  to- 
gether in  private,  we  shall  be  once  more  mother  and 
son." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  spoil  aU,"  said  Jonas.  "  Old 
Granville  will  suspect  something  if  you  seem  to  car© 
too  much  for  me." 

The  selfish  nature  of  Jonas  was  cropping  out,  and 


JONAS  JOINS  THE  CONSPIEAGT.  115 

(lis  mother  felt,  with  a  pang,  that  he  would  be  recon- 
ciled  to  part  with  her  forever  for  the  sake  of  the 
brilliant  prospects  and  the  large  fortune  which  Mr. 
Granville  could  offer  him. 

She  was  outwardly  cold,  but  such  affection  as  she 
was  capable  of  she  expended  on  this  graceless  and 
ungrateful  boy. 

"  You  seem  to  forget  that  I  may  have  some  feel 
ing  in  the  matter,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  coldly,  but  mth 
inward  pain.  "  If  the  result  of  this  plan  were  to  be 
that  we  should  be  permanently  separated,  I  would 
never  consent  to  it." 

"  Just  as  you  like,  mother,"  said  Jonas,  with  an 
ill  grace.     "  I  don't  look  much  like  Phil." 

"  No,  there  will  be  a  difficulty.  Still  Mr.  Gran- 
viUe  has  never  seen  Philip  since  ho  was  three  years 
old,  and  that  is  m  our  favor.  He  thinks  I  am  Mr. 
Brent's  first  wife." 

"  Shall  you  tell  him  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  will  be  guided  by  circumstances. 
Perhaps  it  may  be  best.  I  wouldn't  like  to  have  it 
discovered  that  I  had  deceived  him  in  that." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  manage  about  this  place, 
mother  ?" 

"  I  am  going  to  write  to  your  Uncle  Jonas  to  take 
charge  of  it.  I  wiU  let  him  have  it  at  a  nominal 
rent.  Then,  if  our  plan  miscarries  we  shall  have  a 
place  to  come  back  to." 

"  "Were  you  ever  in  Philadelphia,  mother  V> 


116  THB  BBRAND  BOT. 

**No;  but  there  will  be  no  trouble  m  jonmeying 
there.  I  shall  pack  your  clothes  and  my  own  to- 
night. Of  course,  Jonas,  when  you  meet  Mr.  Gran- 
ville you  must  seem  to  be  fond  of  him.  Then  you 
must  tell  him  how  kind  I  have  been  to  you.  In  fact, 
you  must  act  precisely  as  PhiHp  might  be  expected 
to  do." 

"  Yes,  mother ;  and  you  must  be  careful  not  to  oaD 
me  Jonas.    That  will  spoil  all,  you  know." 

**  Rest  assured  that  I  shall  be  on  my  guard.  If 
you  are  as  careful  as  I  am,  Philip " 

Jonas  burst  into  a  guffaw  at  the  new  name. 

"  It's  just  like  play-acting,  mother,"  he  said. 

**  But  it  will  pay  better,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  quietly. 
**  I  think  it  will  be  best  for  me  to  begin  calling  you 
Philip  at  once — that  is,  as  soon  as  we  have  left 
town — ^so  that  we  may  both  get  accustomed  to  it.** 

"All  right,  mother.  You've  got  a  good  head- 
piece." 

"  I  wiU  manage  things  properly.  If  you  consent 
to  be  guided  by  me,  aU  will  be  right." 

"  Oh,  I'll  do  it  mother.  I  wish  we  were  on  onr 
way." 

"  You  can  go  to  bed  if  you  hke.  I  must  stay  up 
late  to-night.    I  have  to  pack  our  trunks." 

The  next  day  the  pair  of  adventurers  left 
Gresham.  From  the  earliest  available  point  Mrs. 
Brent  telegraphed  to  Mr.  Granville  that  she  was  on 
her  way,  with  the  son  from  whom  he  had  so  long 
been  separated. 


THE  GONSPIBAGT  SUCCEEDS.  H? 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   CONSPIRACY   SUCCEEDS. 

IN  A  HANDSOME  private  parlor  at  the  Con- 
tinental Hotel  a  man  of  about  forty-five  years 
of  age  sat  in  an  easy-chair.  He  was  of  middle 
height,  rather  dark  complexion,  and  a  pleasant  ex- 
pression. His  right  foot  was  bandaged,  and  rested 
on  a  chair.  The  morning  Daily  Ledger  was  in  his 
hand,  but  he  was  not  reading.  His  mind,  judging 
from  his  absorbed  look,  was  occupied  with  other 
thoughts. 

"  I  can  hardly  realize,"  he  said  half -aloud,  "  that 
my  boy  will  so  soon  be  restored  to  my  arms.  "W"e 
have  been  separated  by  a  cruel  fate,  but  we  shaii 
soon  be  together  again.  I  remember  how  the  dear 
child  looked  when  I  left  him  at  Fultonville  in  the 
care  of  the  kind  inn-keeper.  I  am  sorry  he  is  deacu 
but  his  widow  shall  be  suitably  repaid  for  her  kina 
devotion." 

He  had  reached  this  point  when  a  knocK  was 
heard  at  the  door. 

"  Come  in  !"  said  Mr.  Granville. 

A  servant  of  the  hotel  appeared. 


118  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  A  lady  and  a  boy  are  in  the  parlor  below,  sir. 
They  wish  to  see  you." 

Though  Mr.  Granville  had  consiaeraofe  control 
over  his  feelings,  his  heart  beat  fast  wnen  ne  heard 
these  words. 

"  Will  you  show  them  up  at  once  ?"  he  said,  in  a 
tone  which  showed  some  trace  of  agitation. 

The  servant  bore  the  message  to  Mrs.  Brent  and 
Jonas,  who  were  sitting  in  the  hotel  parlor. 

If  Mr.  Granville  was  agitated,  the  two  conspirators 
were  not  wholly  at  their  ease.  There  was  a  red  spot 
on  each  of  Mrs.  Brent's  cheeks — her  way  of  express- 
ing emotion — and  Jonas  was  fidgeting  about  un- 
easily in  his  chair,  staring  about  him  curiously. 

"  Mind  what  I  told  you,"  said  his  mother,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  Eemember  to  act  like  a  boy  who  has  sud- 
denly been  restored  to  his  long-lost  father.  Every- 
thing depends  on  first  impressions." 

"  I  wish  it  was  all  over ;  I  wish  I  was  out  of  it," 
said  Jonas,  wiping  the  perspiration  from  his  face. 
"  Suppose  he  suspects  V 

"  He  won't  if  you  do  as  I  tell  you.  Don't  look 
gawky,  but  act  naturally." 

Just  then  the  servant  reappeared. 

"You  are  to  come  up-stairs,"  he  said.  "The 
gentleman  will  see  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mrs.  Brent,  rising.  "  Come, 
Philip." 

Jonas  rose,  and  with  the  manner  of  a  cur  that 


THE  CONSPIRACY  SUCCEEDS.  119 

expected  a  whipping,  followed  his  mother  and  the 
servant. 

"  It's  only  one  flight,"  said  the  servant,  "  but  we 
can  take  the  elevator," 

"  It  is  of  no  consequence,"  Mrs.  Brent  began,  but 
Jonas  said  eagerly : 

"  Let's  ride  on  the  elevator,  ma  !" 

"  Yery  weU,  Philip,"  said  Mrs.  Brent. 

A  minute  later  the  two  stood  at  the  door  of  Mr. 
Granville's  room.     Next  they  stood  in  his  presence. 

Mr.  Granville,  looking  eagerly  toward  the  door, 
passed  over  Mrs.  Brent,  and  his  glance  rested  on  the 
boy  who  followed  her.  He  started,  and  there  was  a 
quick  feeling  of  disappointment.  He  had  been  pic- 
turing to  himself  how  his  lost  boy  would  look,  but 
none  of  his  visions  resembled  the  awkward-looking 
boy  who  stood  sheepishly  by  the  side  of  Mrs.  Brent. 

"  Mr.  Granville,  I  presume,"  said  the  lady. 

"  Yes,  madam.     You  are " 

"  Mrs.  Brent,  and  this,"  pointing  to  Jonas,  "  is  the 
boy  you  left  at  FultonviUe  thirteen  years  ago. 
Philip,  go  to  your  father." 

Jonas  advanced  awkwardly  to  Mr.  Granville's 
chair,  and  said  in  parrot-like  tones : 

"  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  pa  !" 

"  And  you  are  really  Phihp  ?"  said  Mr.  GranviUe 
slowly. 

"  Yes,  I'm  Philip  Brent ;  but  I  suppose  my  name 
is  Granville  now." 


120  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Come  here,  my  boy !" 

Mr.  Granville  drew  the  boy  to  him,  and  looked 
earnestly  in  his  face,  then  kissed  him  affectionately. 

"  He  has  changed  since  he  was  a  Uttle  child,  Mrs. 
Brent,"  he  said,  with  a  half -sigh. 

"  That's  to  be  expected,  sir.  He  was  only  three 
years  old  when  you  left  him  with  us." 

"  But  it  seems  to  me  that  his  hair  and  complexion 
are  Ughter," 

"  You  can  judge  of  that  better  than  I,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent  plausibly.  "  To  me,  who  have  seen  him  daily, 
the  change  was  not  perceptible." 

"  I  am  greatly  indebted  to  you  for  your  devoted 
care — to  you  and  your  husband.  I  am  grieved  to 
hear  that  Mr.  Brent  is  dead." 

"  Yes,  sir ;  he  left  me  six  months  since.  It  was  a 
grievous  loss.  Ah,  sir,  when  I  give  up  Philip  also,  I 
shall  feel  quite  alone  in  the  world,"  and  she  pressed 
a  handkerchief  to  her  eyes.  "  You  see,  I  have  come 
to  look  upon  him  as  my  own  boy !" 

"  My  dear  madam,  don't  think  that  I  shall  be  so 
cruel  as  to  take  him  from  you.  Though  I  wish  him 
now  to  Hve  with  me,  you  must  accompany  him.  My 
home  shall  be  yours  if  you  are  willing  to  accept  a 
room  in  my  house  and  a  seat  at  my  table." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Granville,  how  can  I  thank  you  for  your 
great  kindness  ?  Ever  since  I  received  your  letter 
I  have  been  depressed  with  the  thought  that  I 
should  lose  dear  Philip.    If  I  had  a  child  of  my  own 


THE  C0N8PIRAG7  SUCCEEDS.  121 

it  would  be  different ;  but,  having  none,  my  affec- 
tions are  centered  upon  him." 

"  And  very  naturally,"  said  Mr.  Granville.  "  We 
become  attached  to  those  whom  we  benefit.  Doubt- 
less he  feels  a  like  affection  for  you.  You  love  this 
good  lady,  Philip,  who  has  supplied  to  you  the  place 
of  your  own  mother,  who  died  in  your  infancy,  do 
you  not  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Jonas  stolidly.  "  But  I  want 
to  live  with  my  pa !" 

"  To  be  sure  you  shaU.  My  boy,  we  have  been 
;ieparated  too  long  already.  Henceforth  we  will  live 
together,  and  Mrs.  Brent  shall  live  with  us." 

"  Where  do  you  live,  pa  ?"  asked  Jonas. 

"  I  have  a  country-seat  a  few  miles  from  Chicago," 
answered  Mr.  GranviUe.  "  We  wiU  go  there  as  soon 
as  I  am  weU  enough.  I  ought  to  apologize,  Mrs. 
Brent,  for  inviting  you  up  to  my  room,  but  my  rheu- 
matism makes  me  a  prisoner." 

"I  hope  your  rheumatism  will  soon  leave  you, 
sir." 

"  I  think  it  wiU.  I  have  an  excellent  physician, 
ftnd  already  I  am  much  better.  I  may,  however, 
have  to  remain  here  a  few  days  yet." 

"  And  where  do  you  wish  Philip  and  I  to  remain 
in  the  meantime  ?" 

"  Here,  of  course.   Philip,  will  you  ring  the  bell?" 

"I  don't  see  any  bell,"  answered  Jonas,  bewil- 
dered. 


122  THE  ERRAND  EOT, 

"Touch  that  knob!" 

Jonas  did  so. 

"  "Will  that  ring  the  bell  ?'*  he  asked  curiously. 

"  Yes ;  it  is  an  electric  bell." 

"  By  gosh !"  ejaculated  Jonas. 

"  Don't  use  such  language,  Philip !"  said  Mrs. 
Brent  hastily.  "  Your  father  will  be  shocked.  You 
see,  Mr.  Granville,  Philip  has  associated  with  coun- 
try boys,  and  in  spite  of  my  care,  he  has  adopted 
some  of  their  language." 

Mr.  Granville  himself  was  rather  disturbed  by 
this  countrified  utterance,  and  it  occurred  to  him 
that  his  new-found  son  needed  considerable  polish- 
ing. 

"  Ah,  I  quite  understand  that,  Mrs.  Brent,"  he 
said  courteously.  "  He  is  young  yet,  and  there  will 
be  plenty  of  time  for  him  to  get  rid  of  any  objection- 
able habits  and  phrases." 

Here  the  servant  appeared. 

"  Tell  the  clerk  to  assign  this  lady  and  the  boy 
rooms  on  this  floor  if  any  are  vacant.  Mrs.  Brent, 
Philip  may  have  a  room  next  to  you  for  the  present. 
"When  I  am  better  I  will  have  him  with  me.  John, 
is  dinner  on  the  table  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Then,  after  taking  possession  of  your  rooms,  you 
and  Philip  had  better  go  to  dinner.  I  will  send  for 
him  later." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 


THE  CONSPIRACY  SUCCEEDS.  123 

As  Mrs.  Brent  was  ushered  into  her  handsome 
apartment  her  face  was  radiant  with  joy  and  exul- 
tation. 

"  All  has  gone  well !"  she  said.  "  The  most  diffi- 
cult part  is  over." 


124  TEE  ERRAND  BOY, 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

^  A   NAKROW    ESCAPE   FEOM   DETECTION. 

THE  CONSPIRACY  into  which  Mrs.  Brent 
haxi  entered  was  a  daring  one,  and  required 
great  coolness  and  audacity.  But  the  inducements 
were  great,  and  for  her  son's  sake  she  decided  to 
carry  it  through.  Of  course  it  was  necessary  that 
she  should  not  be  identified  Avith  any  one  who  could 
disclose  to  Mr.  Granville  the  deceit  that  was  being 
practiced  upon  him.  Circumstances  lessened  the 
risk  of  detection,  since  Mr.  Granville  was  confined 
to  his  room  in  the  hotel,  and  for  a  week  she  and 
Jonas  went  about  the  city  alone. 

One  day  she  had  a  scare. 

She  was  occupying  a  seat  in  a  Chestnut  Street  car, 
while  Jonas  stood  in  front  with  the  driver,  when  a 
gentleman  whom  she  had  not  observed,  sitting  at 
the  other  end  of  the  car,  espied  her. 

'•  "Why,  Mrs.  Brent,  how  came  you  here  ?"  he  asked, 
in  surprise,  crossing  over  and  taking  a  seat  beside 
her. 

Her  color  went  and  came  as,  in  a  subdued  tone,  she 
answered. 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  FROM  DETECTION.        125 

"  I  am  in  Philadelphia  on  a  little  visit,  Mr.  Pear- 
son." 

"Are  you  not  rather  out  of  your  latitude?"  asked 
the  gentleman. 

"  Yes,  perhaps  so." 

"How  is  Mr.  Brent?" 

"^  Did  you  not  hear  that  he  was  dead  ?" 

"  No,  indeed !  I  sympathize  with  you  in  your  sad 
loss." 

"  Yes,"  sighed  the  widow.  "  It  is  a  great  loss  to 
us." 

"  I  suppose  Jonas  is  a  large  boy  now,"  said  the 
other.   "  I  haven't  seen  him  for  two  or  three  years." 

"  Yes,  he  has  grown,"  said  the  widow  briefly.  She 
hoped  that  Mr.  Pearson  would  not  discover  that 
Jonas  was  with  her,  as  she  feared  that  the  boy  might 
betray  them  unconsciously. 

"  Is  he  with  you  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Do  you  stay  long  in  Philadelphia  ?'* 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  answered  Mrs.  Brent. 

"  I  go  back  to  New  York  this  afternoon,  or  I 
would  ask  permission  to  call  on  you." 

Mrs.  Brent  breathed  more  freely.  A  call  at  the 
hotel  was  by  all  means  to  be  avoided. 

"  Of  course  I  should  have  been  glad  to  see  you," 
she  answered,  feehng  quite  safe  in  saying  so.  "  Are 
you  going  far  ?" 

"  I  get  out  at  Thirteenth  Street." 


126  TEE  ERRAND  BOT. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  said  Mrs.  Brent  to  herself. 
"  Then  he  won't  discover  where  we  are." 

The  Continental  Hotel  is  situated  at  the  corner  of 
Chestnut  and  Ninth  Streets,  and  Mrs.  Brent  feared 
that  Jonas  would  stop  the  car  at  that  point.  As  it 
was,  the  boy  did  not  observe  that  his  mother  had 
met  an  acquaintance,  so  intent  was  he  on  watching 
the  street  sights. 

When  they  reached  Ninth  Street  mother  and  son 
got  out  and  entered  the  hotel. 

"  I  guess  I'll  stay  down  stairs  awhile,"  said  Jonas. 

"  No,  Philip,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you. 
Come  up  with  me." 

"  I  want  to  go  into  the  billiard-room,"  said  Jonas, 
grumbling. 

"  It  is  very  important,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  emphatic- 
ally. 

Now  the  curiosity  of  Jonas  was  excited,  and  he 
followed  his  mother  into  the  elevator,  for  their 
rooms  were  on  the  third  floor. 

"Well,  mother,  what  is  it?"  asked  Jonas,  when 
the  door  of  his  mother's  room  was  closed  behind 
them. 

"  I  met  a  gentleman  who  knew  me  in  the  horse- 
car,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  abruptly. 

'< Did  you?    Who  was  it?" 

"  Mr.  Pearson." 

"  He  used  to  give  me  candy.  Why  didn't  you  call 
me?" 


A  NARRO  W  ESCAPE  FROM  DETECTION.       127 

"It  is  important  that  we  should  not  be  recog- 
nized," said  his  mother.  "  While  we  stay  here  we 
must  be  exceedingly  prudent.  Suppose  he  had 
called  upon  us  at  the  hotel  and  fallen  in  with  Mr. 
Granville.  He  might  have  told  him  that  you  are 
my  son,  and  that  your  name  is  Jonas,  not  PhQip." 

"Then  the  fat  would  be  in  the  fire!"  said 
Jonas. 

"  Exactly  so ;  I  am  glad  you  see  the  danger.  Now 
IJwant  you  to  stay  here,  or  in  your  own  room,  for 
the  next  two  or  three  hours." 

"  It'll  be  awfully  tiresome,"  grumbled  Jonas., 

"  It  is  necessary,"  said  his  mother  firmly.  **  Mr. 
Pearson  leaves  for  New  York  by  an  afternoon  train. 
It  is  now  only  two  o'clock.  He  left  the  car  at  Thir- 
teenth Street,  and  might  easily  call  at  this  hotel.  It 
is  a  general  rendezvous  for  visitors  to  the  city.  If 
he  should  meet  you  down  stairs,  he  would  probably 
know  you,  and  his  curiosity  would  be  aroused.  He 
asked  me  where  I  was  staying,  but  I  didn't  appear 
to  hear  the  question." 

"  That's  pretty  hard  on  me,  ma." 

"  I  am  out  of  all  patience  with  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent.  "  Am  I  not  working  for  your  interest,  and 
you  are  doing  aU  you  can  to  thwart  my  plans.  If 
you  don't  care  anything  about  inheriting  a  large  for- 
tune, let  it  go !  "We  can  go  back  to  Gresham  and 
give  it  all  up." 

"  FU  do  as  you  say,  ma,"  said  Jonas,  subdued. 


128  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

The  very  next  day  Mr.  Granville  sent  for  Mrs. 
Brent.     She  lost  no  time  in  waiting  upon  him. 

"  Mrs.  Brent,'  he  said,  "  I  have  decided  to  leave 
Philadelphia  to-morrow." 

"  Are  you  quite  able,  sir  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  good 
assumption  of  sympathy. 

'4  My  doctor  tells  me  I  may  venture.  We  shall 
travel  in  Pullman  cars,  you  know.  I  shall  secure  a 
whole  compartment,  and  avail  myself  of  every  com- 
fort and  luxury  which  money  can  command." 

"  Ah,  sir !  money  is  a  good  friend  in  such  a  case." 

"  True,  Mrs.  Brent.  I  have  seen  the  time  when  I 
was  poorly  suppUed  with  it.  Now  I  am  happily  at 
ease.     Can  you  and  Philip  be  ready  ?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Granville,"  answered  Mrs.  Brent 
promptly.  "  "We  are  ready  to-day,  for  that  matter. 
We  shall  both  be  glad  to  get  started." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  I  think  Phihp  will  like  his 
Western  home.  I  bought  a  fine  country  estate  of  a 
Chicago  merchant,  whose  failure  compelled  him  to 
part  with  it.  Philip  shall  have  his  own  horse  and 
his  own  servants." 

"  He  will  be  delighted,"  said  Mrs.  Brent  warmly. 
"  He  has  been  used  to  none  of  these  things,  for  Mr. 
Brent  and  I,  much  as  we  loved  him,  had  not  the 
means  to  provide  him  with  such  luxuries." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Brent,  I  understand  that  fully.  You 
were  far  from  rich.  Yet  you  cared  for  my  boy  as  if 
he  were  your  own." 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE  FROM  DETECTION.        129 

"  I  loved  him  as  much  as  if  he  had  been  my  own 
son,  Mr.  Granville." 

"  I  am  sure  you  did.  I  thank  Providence  that  I 
am  able  to  repay  to  some  extent  the  great  debt  I 
have  incurred.  I  cannot  repay  it  wholly,  but  I  will 
take  care  that  you,  too,  shall  enjoy  ease  and  luxury. 
You  shall  have  one  of  the  best  rooms  in  my  house, 
and  a  special  servant  to  wait  upon  you." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Granville,"  said  Mrs.  Brent,  her 
heart  filled  with  proud  anticipations  of  the  state  in 
which  she  should  hereafter  live.  "I  do  not  care 
where  you  put  me,  so  long  as  you  do  not  separate 
me  from  Philip." 

"  She  certainly  loves  my  son  !"  said  Mr.  Granville 
to  himself.  "Yet  her  ordinary  manner  is  cold  and 
constrained,  and  she  does  not  seem  like  a  woman 
whose  affections  would  easily  be  taken  captive.  Yet 
Philip  seems  to  have  found  the  way  to  her  heart. 
It  must  be  because  she  has  had  so  much  care  of  him. 
"We  are  apt  to  love  those  whom  we  benefit." 

But  though  Mr.  Granville  credited  Mrs.  Brent 
with  an  affection  for  Philip,  he  was  uneasily  con- 
scious that  the  boy's  return  had  not  brought  him 
the  satisfaction  and  happiness  he  had  fondly  antici- 
pated. 

To  begin  with,  Philip  did  not  look  at  all  as  he  had 
supposed  his  son  would  look.  He  did  not  look  like 
the  GranviUes  at  all.  Indeed,  he  had  an  unusually 
countrified  aspect,  and  his  conversation  was  mingled 


130  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

with  rustic  phrases,  which  shocked  his  father's  taste. 

"  I  suppose  it  comes  of  the  way  in  which  he  has 
been  brought  up  and  the  country  boys  he  has  asso- 
ciated with,"  thought  Mr.  Granville.  "  Fortunately 
he  is  young,  and  there  is  time  to  poUsh  him.  As 
soon  as  I  reach  Chicago  I  will  engage  a  private 
tutor  for  him,  who  shall  not  only  remedy  his  defects 
of  education,  but  do  what  he  can  to  improve  my 
son's  manners.  I  want  him  to  grow  up  a  gentle- 
man." 

The  next  day  the  three  started  for  Chicago,  while 
Mr.  Granville's  real  son  and  heir  continued  to  live  at 
a  cheap  lodging-house  in  New  York. 

The  star  of  Jonas  was  in  the  ascendant,  while  poor 
Philip  seemed  destined  to  years  of  poverty  and  hard 
work.  Even  now,  he  was  threatened  by  serious  mis- 
lortune. 


LEFT  OUT  IN  THE  COLD.  131 


CHAPTER  XX. 

LEFT    OUT    IN    THE    COLD. 

OF  COURSE  Phil  was  utterly  ignorant  of  the 
audacious  attempt  to  deprive  him  of  his 
rights  and  keep  him  apart  from  the  father  who 
longed  once  more  to  meet  him.  There  was  nothing 
before  him  so  far  as  he  knew  except  to  continue  the 
up-hill  struggle  for  a  living. 

He  gave  very  little  thought  to  the  prediction  of 
the  fortune-teller  whom  he  had  consulted,  and  didn't 
dream  of  any  short-cut  to  fortune. 

Do  all  he  could,  he  found  he  could  not  hve  on  his 
wages. 

His  board  cost  him  four  dollars  a  week,  and  wash- 
ing and  lunch  two  dollars  more,  thus  compelling  him 
to  exceed  his  salary  by  a  dollar  each  week. 

He  had,  as  we  know,  a  reserve  fund,  on  which  he 
could  draw,  but  it  was  small,  and  grew  constantly 
smaller.  Then,  again,  his  clothes  were  wearing  out, 
and  he  saw  no  way  of  obtaining  money  to  buy  new. 

Phil  became  uneasy,  and  the  question  came  ^p  to 
his  mind,  "  Should  he  ^T:'ite  to  his  step-mother  and 
ask  her  for  a  trifling  loan  ?"  If  the  money  had  been 
hers,  he  would  not  have  done  so  on  any  condition ; 


132  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

but  she  had  had  nothing  of  her  own,  and  all  the 
property  in  her  hands  came  through  Mr.  Brent,  who, 
as  he  knew,  was  attached  to  him,  even  though  no 
tie  of  blood  united  them.  He  certainly  meant  that 
Phil  should  be  cared  for  out  of  the  estate,  and  at 
length  Phil  brought  himself  to  write  the  following 
letter : 

"  New  Yoek,  March  10,  18—. 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Brent  :  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have 
written  you  before,  and  have  no  good  excuse  to  offer. 
I  hope  you  and  Jonas  are  well,  and  will  continue  so. 
Let  me  tell  you  how  I  have  succeeded  thus  far. 

"  I  have  been  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  a  place 
in  a  large  mercantile  estabhshment,  and  for  my 
services  I  am  paid  five  dollars  a  week.  This  is  more 
than  boys  generally  ^et  in  the  first  place,  and  I  am 
indebted  to  the  partiality  of  an  old  gentleman,  the 
senior  member  of  the  flmi,  wliom  I  had  the  chance 
to  oblige,  for  faring  so  well.  Still  I  find  it  hard  to 
get  along  on  this  sum,  though  I  am  as  economical  as 

f)ossible.  My  board  and  washing  cost  me  sis.  deb- 
ars a  week,  and  I  have,  besides,  to  buy  clothing 
from  time  to  time.  I  have  nearly  spent  the  extra 
money  I  had  with  me,  and  do  not  know  how  to 
keep  myself  looking  respectable  in  the  way  of  cloth- 
ing. Under  the  circumstances,  I  shall  have  to  apply 
to  you  for  a  loan,  say  of  twenty-five  dollars.  In  a 
year  or  two  I  hope  to  earn  enough  to  be  entirely 
independent.  At  present  I  cannot  expect  it.  As 
my  father — Mr.  Brent — undoubtedly  intended  to 
provide  for  me,  I  don't  think  I  need  to  apologize  for 
making  this  request.  Still  I  do  it  reluctantly,  for  I 
would  prefer  to  depend  entirely  upon  myself. 

"With  regards  to  you  and  Jonas,  I  am  yours 
truly,  Philip  Bkent." 


LEFT  OUT  m  THE  COLD,  133 

Phil  put  this  letter  in  the  post-office,  and  patiently 
waited  for  an  answer. 

"  Mrs.  Brent  surely  cannot  refuse  me,"  he  said  to 
himself,  "  since  I  have  almost  whoUy  relieved  her  of 
the  expense  of  taking  care  of  me." 

Phil  felt  so  sure  that  money  would  be  sent  to  him 
that  he  began  to  look  round  a  httle  among  ready- 
made  clothing  stores  to  see  at  what  price  he  could 
obtain  a  suit  that  would  do  for  every-day  use.  He 
found  a  store  in  the  Bowery  where  he  could  secure  a 
suit,  which  looked  as  if  it  would  answer,  for  thirteen 
dollars.  If  Mrs.  Brent  sent  him  twenty-five,  that 
would  leave  him  twelve  for  underclothing,  and  for  a 
reserve  fund  to  meet  the  weekly  deficit  which  he 
could  not  avoid. 

Three — four  days  passed,  and  no  letter  came  in 
answer  to  his. 

"  It  can't  be  that  Mrs.  Brent  won't  at  least  answer 
my  letter,"  he  thought  uneasily.  "  Even  if  she  didn't 
send  me  twenty-five  dollars,  she  couldn't  help  send- 
ing me  something." 

StiU  he  felt  uneasy,  in  view  of  the  position  in 
which  he  would  find  himself  in  case  no  letter  or  re- 
mittance should  come  at  all. 

It  w^as  during  this  period  of  anxiety  that  his  heart 
leaped  for  joy  w^hen  on  Broadway  he  saw  the  famil- 
iar form  of  Eeuben  Gordon,  a  young  man  already 
mentioned,  to  whom  Phil  had  sold  his  gun  before 
leaving  Gresham. 


134  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"Why,  Reuben,  how  are  you?"  exclaimed  Phil 
joyfully.     "  When  did  you  come  to  town  ?" 

"  Phil  Brent  !'*  exclaimed  Reuben,  shaking  hands 
heartily.  "  Pm  thunderin'  glad  to  see  you.  I  was 
thinldn'  of  you  only  five  minutes  ago,  and  wonderin' 
where  you  hung  out." 

"  But  you  haven't  told  me  when  you  came  to  Kew 
Tork." 

"  Only  this  morning !  Pm  goin'  to  stay  with  a 
cousin  of  my  father's,  that  lives  in  Brooklyn,  over 
night." 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you  about  Mrs.  Brent  and  Jonas. 
I  was  afraid  they  might  be  sick,  for  I  wrote  four 
days  ago  and  haven't  got  any  answer  yet." 

"Where  did  you  write  to?" 

"  To  Gresham,  of  course,"  answered  Phil,  in  sur- 
prise. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  hain't  heard  of  their 
leavin'  Gresham  ?"  said  Reuben,  in  evident  astonish- 
ment. 

"  Who  has  left  Gresham  ?" 

''  Your  mother — leastwise,  Mrs.  Brent — and  Jonas. 
They  cleared  out  three  weeks  ago,  and  nobody's 
heard  a  word  of  them  since — that  is,  nobody  in  the 
villa^^e." 

"Don't  you  know  where  they've  gone?"  asked 
Phil,  in  amazement. 

"  No.  I  was  goin'  to  ask  you.  I  s'posed,  of  course, 
they'd  write  and  let  you  know." 


LEFT  0  UT  IN  THE  COLD.  ]  35 

"  I  didn't  even  know  they  had  left  Gresham." 

"  Well,  that's  what  I  call  cux'us.  It  ain't  treatirf 
you  right  accordin'  to  my  ideas." 

"  Is  the  house  shut  up  ?" 

"  It  was  till  two  days  ago.  Then  a  brother  of 
Mrs.  Brent  came  and  opened  it.  He  has  brought  his 
wife  and  one  child  with  him,  and  it  seems  they're 
goin'  to  live  there.  Somebody  asked  him  where  his 
sister  and  Jonas  were,  but  they  didn't  get  no  satis- 
faction. He  said  he  didn't  rightly  know  himself. 
He  believed  they  was  travelin';  thought  they  might 
be  in  Canada." 

Phil  looked  and  felt  decidedly  sober  at  this  infor- 
mation. He  understood,  of  course,  now,  why  his 
letter  had  not  been  answered.  It  looked  as  if  he 
were  an  outcast  from  the  home  that  had  been  his  so 
long.  Wnen  he  came  to  New  York  to  earn  a  living 
he  felt  that  he  was  doing  so  voluntarily,  and  was 
not  obliged  to  do  so.  Now  he  was  absolutely  thrown 
upon  his  own  resources,  and  must  either  work  or 
starve. 

"  They've  treated  you  real  mean,"  said  Eeuben. 
"  I  never  did  like  Mrs.  Brent,  or  Jonas  either,  for 
that  matter. 

"  "Where  are  you  working  V 

Phil  answered  this  question  and  several  others 
which  his  honest  country  friend  asked,  but  his  mind 
was  preoccupied,  and  he  answered  some  of  the  ques- 
tions at  random.    Finally  he  excused  himself  on 


136  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

the  ground  that  he  must  be  getting  back  to  the, 
store. 

That  evening  Phil  thought  seriously  of  his  posi- 
tion. Something  must  be  done,  that  was  very  evi- 
dent. His  expenses  exceeded  his  income,  and  he 
needed  some  clothing.  There  was  no  chance  of  get- 
ting his  wages  raised  under  a  year,  for  he  already 
received  more  pay  than  it  was  customary  to  give  to 
a  boy.    What  should  he  do  ? 

Phil  decided  to  lay  his  position  frankly  before  the 
only  friend  he  had  in  the  city  likely  to  help  him — 
Mr.  Oliver  Carter.  The  old  gentleman  had  been  so 
friendly  and  kind  that  he  felt  that  he  would  not  at 
any  rate  repulse  him.  After  he  had  come  to  this 
decision  he  felt  better.  He  determined  to  lose  no 
time  in  calling  upon  Mr.  Carter. 

After  supper  he  brushed  his  hair  carefully,  and 
made  himself  look  as  well  as  circumstances  would 
admit.  Then  he  bent  his  steps  toward  Twelfth 
Street,  where,  as  the  reader  will  remember,  Mr. 
Carter  lived  with  his  niece. 

He  ascended  the  steps  and  rang  the  bell.  It  was 
opened  by  Hannah,  who  recognized  him,  having  ad- 
mitted him  on  the  former  occasion  of  his  call 
ing. 

"Good-evening,"  said  Phil  pleasantly.  "Is  Mr. 
Carter  at  home  ?" 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  Hannah.  "  Didn't  you  know 
he  had  gone  to  Florida  ?" 


LEFT  OUT  IN  THE  COLD.  137 

"  Gone  to  Florida !"  repeated  Phil,  his  heart  sink- 
ing.    "  "When  did  he  start  ?" 

"  He  started  this  afternoon." 

"  "Who's  asking  after  Uncle  Oliver  ?"  asked  a  boy's 
voice. 

Looking  behind  Hannah,  Phil  recognized  the 
speaker  as  Alonzo  Pitkin. 


138  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

"they  met  by  chance." 

WHO  WAS  asking  after  Uncle  Oliver?"  de- 
manded Alonzo  superciliously. 

"  I  was,"  answered  Philip, 

"  Oh !  it's  you,  is  it  ?"  said  Alonzo,  rather  disdain- 
fully. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Phil  calmly,  though  he  felt  pro- 
voked at  Alonzo's  tone,  which  was  meant  to  be 
offensive.     "  You  remember  me,  don't  you  ?" 

"  You  are  the  boy  that  got  round  Uncle  Oliver, 
and  got  him  to  give  you  a  place  in  pa's  store." 

"I  deny  that  I  got  round  him,"  returned  Phil 
warmly.     "  I  had  the  good  luck  to  do  him  a  favor." 

"I  suppose  you  have  come  after  money?"  said 
Alonzo  coarsely. 

"  I  sha'n't  ask  you  for  any,  at  any  rate,"  said  Phil 
angrily. 

"No;  it  wouldn't  do  any  good,"  said  Alonzo; 
"  and  it's  no  use  asking  ma,  either.  She  says  you  are 
an  adventurer,  and  have  designs  on  Uncle  Oliver  be- 
cause he  is  rich." 

"  I  shall  not  ask  your  mother  for  any  favor,"  said 


'' THET  MET  BY  chance:'  139 

Phil,  provoked.  "  I  am  sorry  not  to  meet  your 
uncle." 

"  I  dare  say !"  sneered  Alonzo. 

Just  then  a  woman,  poorly  but  neatly  dressed, 
came  down  stairs.  Her  face  was  troubled.  Just 
behind  her  came  Mrs.  Pitkin,  whose  face  wore  a 
chilly  and  proud  look. 

"  Mr.  Carter  has  left  the  city,  and  I  really  don't 
know  when  he  will  return,"  Phil  heard  her  say.  "  If 
he  had  been  at  home,  it  would  not  have  benefited 
you.  He  is  violently  prejudiced  against  you,  and 
would  not  have  listened  to  a  word  you  had  to  say." 

"  I  did  not  think  he  would  have  harbored  resent- 
ment so  long,"  murmured  the  poor  woman.  "  He 
never  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  hard  man." 

Phil  gazed  at  the  poorly  dressed  woman  with  a 
surprise  which  he  did  not  attempt  to  conceal,  for  in 
her  he  recognized  the  familiar  figure  of  his  landlady. 
What  could  she  have  to  do  in  this  house  ?  he  asked 
himself. 

"  Mrs.  Forbush !"  he  exclaimed. 

PhiHp !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Forbush,  in  a  surprise  as 
great  as  his  own,  for  she  had  never  asked  where  her 
young  lodger  worked,  and  was  not  aware  that  he 
was  in  the  employ  of  her  cousin's  husband  and  well 
acquainted  with  the  rich  uncle  whom  she  had  not 
seen  for  years. 

"  Do  you  know  each  other  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Pit 
kin,  whose  turn  it  was  to  be  surprised. 


140  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  This  young  gentleman  lodges  in  my  house,"  an- 
swered Mrs.  Forbush. 

"Young  gentleman!"  repeated  Alonzo,  with  a 
mocking  laugh. 

Philip  looked  at  him  sternly.  He  had  his  share 
of  human  nature,  and  it  would  have  given  him  satis- 
faction to  thrash  the  insolent  young  patrician,  as 
Alonzo  chose  to  consider  himself. 

"  And  what  do  you  want  here,  young  man  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Pitkin  in  a  frosty  tone,  addressing  Phil  of 
course. 

"  I  wished  to  see  Mr.  Carter,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Really,  Mr.  Carter  seems  to  be  very  much  in  re- 
quest !"  sneered  Mrs.  Pitkin.  "  !N"o  doubt  he  will  be 
very  much  disappointed  when  he  hears  what  he  has 
lost.  You  will  have  to  go  to  Florida  to  see  him,  I 
think,  however."  She  added,  after  a  pause :  "  It 
wiU  not  be  weU  for  either  of  you  to  caU  again.  Mr. 
Carter  will  understand  the  motive  of  your  calls." 

"  How  cruel  you  are,  Lavinia !"  said  Mrs.  Forbush 
sadly. 

"  My  name  is  Mrs.  Pitkin !"  said  that  lady  frigidly. 

**You  have  not  forgotten  that  we  are  cousins, 
surely  ?" 

"I  do  not  care  to  remember  it,  Mrs.  Forbush. 
Good-day." 

There  was  no  alternative  but  for  Mrs.  Forbush  to 
say  "  good-day  "  also,  and  to  descend  the  steps. 

Philip  joined  her  in  the  street. 


'•  THET  MET  B  Y  CHANCER  141 

'  Are  you  really  the  cousin  of  Mrs.  Pitkin  ?"  he 
asked. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mrs.  Forbush.  "  I  bear  the  same 
relationship  to  Mr.  Carter  that  she  does.  We  were 
much  together  as  girls,  and  were  both  educated  at 
the  same  expensive  schools.  I  offended  my  rela- 
tives by  marrying  Mr.  Forbush,  whose  fault  was 
that  he  was  poor,  and  chiefly,  I  think,  through  the 
efforts  of  Lavinia  Pitkin  I  Avas  cast  out  by  the  family. 
But  where  did  you  meet  Uncle  Oliver  ?" 

Philip  explained  the  circumstances  already  known 
to  the  reader. 

"Mr.  Carter  seems  to  me  to  be  a  kind-hearted 
man,"  he  said.  "I  don't  believe  he  would  have  cast 
you  off  if  he  had  not  been  influenced  by  other 
parties." 

"So  I  think,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush.  "I  will  tell 
you,"  she  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  what  drew  me 
here  this  afternoon.  I  am  struggling  hard  to  keep 
my  head  above  water,  Mr.  Brent,  but  I  find  it  hard 
to  meet  my  expenses.  I  cannot  meet  my  rent  due 
to-morrow  within  fifteen  dollars,  and  I  dared  to 
hope  that  if  I  could  meet  Uncle  Ohver  face  to  face 
and  explain  matters  to  him,  he  would  let  me  have 
the  money." 

"  I  am  sure  he  would,"  said  Phil  warmly. 

"  But  he  is  in  Florida,  and  will  probably  remain 
there  for  a  month  or  two  at  least,"  said  Mrs.  For- 
bush, sighing.     ''  But  even  if  he  were  in  the  city  I 


142  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

suppose  Lavinia  would  do  all  in  her  power  to  keep 
us  apart." 

"I  have  no  doubt  she  would,  Mrs.  Forbush. 
Though  she  is  your  cousin,  I  dislike  her  very 
much." 

"  I  suppose  the  boy  with  whom  you  were  talking 
waa  her  son  Alonzo  1" 

"  Yes ;  he  is  about  the  most  disagreeable  boy  I 
ever  met.  Both  he  and  his  mother  seem  very  much 
opposed  to  my  having  an  interview  with  your 
uncle." 

"  Lavinia  was  always  of  a  jealous  and  suspicious 
disposition,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush.  "  I  have  not  seen 
Alonzo  since  he  was  a  baby.  He  is  two  years  older 
than  my  Julia.  He  was  born  before  I  estranged  my 
relatives  by  marrying  a  poor  man." 

"  "What  are  you  going  to  do,  Mrs.  Forbush,  about 
the  rent  ?"  asked  Phil,  in  a  tone  of  sympathy. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  shall  try  to  get  the  landlord  to 
wait,  but  I  don't  know  how  he  will  feel  about  it." 

"  I  wish  I  had  plenty  of  money.  I  would  gladly 
lend  you  all  you  need." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would,  Philip,"  said  Mrs.  For- 
bush. "  The  offer  does  me  good,  though  it  is  not 
accompanied  by  the  ability  to  do  what  your  good 
heart  dictates.  I  feel  that  I  am  not  without 
friends." 

"  1  am  a  very  poor  one,"  said  Phil.  "  The  fact  is, 
I  am  in  trouble  myself.     My  income  is  only  five 


-'TEET  MET  BY  change:'  143 

dollars  a  week,  and  my  expenses  are  beyond  that. 
I  don't  know  how  I  am  going  to  keep  up." 

"  You  may  stay  with  me  for  three  dollars  a  week, 
if  you  cannot  pay  four,"  said  Mrs,  Forbush,  forget- 
ting her  own  troubles  in  her  sympathy  with  our 
hero." 

"No,  Mrs.  Forbush,  you  can't  afford  it.  You  need 
money  as  much  as  I  do,  and  perhaps  more ;  for  you 
have  more  than  yourself  to  support." 

"  Yes,  poor  Juha !"  sighed  the  mother.  "  She  is 
born  to  a  heritage  of  poverty.  Heaven  only  knows 
how  we  are  going  to  get  along." 

"God  will  provide  for  us,  Mrs.  Forbush,"  said 
Philip.  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  in  spite  of  my 
troubles  I  feel  cheerful.  I  have  a  confidence  that 
things  will  come  out  well,  though  I  cannot  possibly 
imagine  how." 

"  You  are  young,  and  youth  is  more  inclined  to  be 
hopeful  than  maturer  years.  However,  I  do  not 
wish  to  dampen  your  cheerfulness.  Keep  it,  and  let 
it  comfort  you." 

If  Phil  could  have  heard  the  conversation  that 
took  place  between  Mrs.  Pitkin  and  Alonzo  after 
their  departure,  he  might  have  felt  less  hopeful. 

"It  is  dreadfully  annoying  that  that  woman 
should  turn  up  after  all  these  years !"  said  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin, in  a  tone  of  disgust. 

"  Is  she  reaUy  your  cousin,  ma  ?"  asked  Alonzo. 

"Yes,  but  she  disgi^aced  herself  by  a  low  mar- 
•age,  and  was  cast  off." 


144  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

"  That  disposes  of  her,  then  ?" 

"  I  don't  know.  If  she  could  meet  Uncle  Oliver,  1 
am  afraid  she  would  worm  herself  into  his  confi- 
dence and  get  him  to  do  something  for  her.  Then 
it  is  unfortunate  that  she  and  that  boy  have  fallen 
in  with  each  other.  She  may  get  him  to  speak  to 
Uncle  Oliver  in  her  behalf." 

"  Isn't  he  working  for  pa  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  don't  you  get  pa  to  discharge  him  while 
Uncle  Oliver  is  away  ?" 

"  "WeU  thought  of,  Alonzo !  I  will  speak  to  your 
father  this  very  evening." 


PHIL  IS  '' BOUNCED.-"  145 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PHIL    IS     *'bOUNCED." 

SATURDAY,  as  is  usual  in  such  establishments, 
was  pay-day  at  the  store  of  Phil's  employers. 
The  week's  wages  were  put  up  in  small  envelopes 
and  handed  to  the  various  clerks. 

When  Phil  went  up  to  the  cashier  to  get  his 
money  he  put  it  quietly  into  his  vest-pocket. 

Daniel  Dickson,  the  cashier,  observing  this,  said : 

'•  Brent,  you  had  better  open  3?^our  envelope." 

Rather  surprised,  Phil  nevertheless  did  as  re- 
quested. 

In  the  envelope,  besides  the  five-dollar  bill  repre- 
senting his  week's  salary,  he  found  a  small  shp  of 
paper,  on  which  was  written  these  ominous  words ; 
"  Tour  services  will  not  be  required  after  this  week." 

Appended  to  this  notice  was  the  name  of  the  firm. 

Phil  turned  pale,  for  to  him,  embarrassed  as  he 
was,  the  loss  of  his  place  was  a  very  serious  matter. 

"  What  does  this  mean,  Mr.  Dickson  ?"  he  asked 
quickly. 

"  I  can't  inform  you,"  answered  the  cashier,  smil- 
ing unpleasantly,  for   he  was  a  selfish  man  who 


146  THE  ERRAND  BO  T. 

sympathized  with  no  one,  and  cared  for  no  one  as 
long  as  he  himself  remained  prosperous. 

"  Who  handed  you  this  paper  ?"  asked  PhiL 

"The  boss." 

"Mr.  Pitkin?" 

"  Of  course." 

Mr.  Pitkin  was  still  in  his  little  office,  and  Phii 
made  his  w^ay  directly  to  him. 

"  May  I  speak  to  you,  sir  ?"  asked  our  hero. 

"  Be  quick  about  it  then,  for  I  am  in  a  hurry,"  an- 
swered Pitkin,  in  a  very  forbidding  tone. 

"  Why  am  I  discharged,  sir  V 

"  I  can't  go  into  details.  We  don't  need  you  any 
longer." 

"  Are  you  not  satisfied  with  me  ?" 

"  No !"  said  Pitkin  brusquely. 

"In  what  respect  have  I  failed  to  satisfy  you, 
sir  ?" 

"  Don't  put  on  any  airs,  boy  !"  returned  Pitkin. 
"  We  don't  want  you,  that's  all." 

"  You  might  have  given  me  a  little  notice,'  said 
Phil  indignantly. 

"  We  made  no  stipulation  of  that  kind,  I  believe.' 

"  It  would  only  be  fair,  sir." 

"  No  impertinence,  young  man !  I  won't  stand  it ! 
I  don't  need  any  instructions  as  to  the  manner  of 
conducting  my  business." 

Phil  by  this  time  perceived  that  his  discharge  was 
decided  upon  without  any  reference  to  the  way  in 


PHIL  IS  ''BOUNCED^  147 

which  he  had  performed  his  duties,  and  that  any 
discussion  or  remonstrance  would  be  unavaihng. 

"  I  see,  sir,  that  you  have  no  regard  for  justice, 
and  will  leave  you,"  he  said. 

"  You'd  better,  and  without  delay !"  said  Pitkin 
irascibly. 

Phil  emerged  upon  the  street  with  a  sinking  heart. 
His  available  funds  consisted  only  of  the  money  he 
had  just  received  and  seventy-five  cents  in  change, 
and  what  he  was  to  do  he  did  not  know.  He  walked 
home  with  slow  steps,  looking  sad  in  spite  of  his 
usually  hopeful  temperament. 

When  he  entered  the  house  he  met  Mrs.  Forbush 
in  the  hall.     She  at  once  noticed  his  gravity. 

"  Have  you  had  any  bad  luck,  Philip  ?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  answered  Phil,  "I  have  lost  my  situa- 
tion." 

"  Indeed !"  returned  the  landlady,  with  quick  sym- 
pathy. "Have  you  had  any  difficulty  with  your 
employer  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of." 

"  Did  he  assign  any  reason  for  your  discharge  ?" 

"No;  I  asked  him  for  an  explanation,  but  he 
merely  said  I  was  not  wanted  any  longer." 

"  Isn't  there  any  chance  of  his  taking  you  back  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  there  is  not." 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,  Philip.  A  smart  boy  Hke 
you  won't  be  long  out  of  a  place.  Meanwhile  you 
are  welcome  to  stay  here  as  long  as  I  have  a  roof  to 
cover  me." 


148  TEE  ERRAND  EOT, 

"Thank  you,  Mrs.  Forbusli,"  said  Phil  •warmly. 
"  You  are  a  true  friend.  You  are  in  trouble  your 
self,  yet  you  stand  by  me !" 

"  I  have  had  a  stroke  of  good  luck  to-day,"  said 
Mrs.  Forbush  cheerfully.  "  A  former  boarder,  whom 
I  allowed  to  remain  here  for  five  or  six  weeks  when 
he  was  out  of  employment,  has  sent  me  thirty  dol- 
lars in  payment  of  his  biU,  from  Boston,  where  he 
found  a  position.  So  I  shaU  be  able  to  pay  my  rent 
and  have  something  over.  I  have  been  lucky,  and 
so  may  you." 

Phil  was  cheered  by  the  ready  sympathy  of  his 
landlady,  and  began  to  take  a  more  cheerful  view  of 
matters. 

"  I  wiU  go  out  bright  and  early  on  Monday  and 
see  if  I  can't  find  another  place,"  he  said.  "  Per- 
haps it  may  be  aU  for  the  best." 

Yet  on  the  day  succeeding  he  had  some  sober 
hours.  How  differently  he  had  been  situated  only 
three  months  before.  Then  he  had  a  home  and 
relatives.  Now  he  was  practically  alone  in  the 
world,  with  no  home  in  which  he  could  claim  a 
share,  and  he  did  not  even  know  where  his  step- 
mother and  Jonas  were.  Sunday  forenoon  he  at- 
tended church,  and  while  he  sat  within  its  sacred 
precincts  his  mind  was  tranquiUzed,  and  his  faith 
and  cheerfulness  increased. 

On  Monday  he  bought  the  Herald,  and  made  a 
tour  of  inquiry  wherever  he  saw  that  a  boy  was 


PHIL  IS  ''BOUNGEDr  149 

wanted.  But  in  each  place  he  was  asked  if  he  could 
produce  a  recommendation  from  his  last  employer. 
He  decided  to  go  back  to  his  old  place  and  ask  for 
one,  though  he  was  very  reluctant  to  ask  a  favor  of 
any  kind  from  a  man  who  had  treated  him  so  shab- 
bily as  Mr.  Pitkin,  It  seemed  necessary,  however, 
and  he  crushed  down  his  pride  and  made  his  way  to 
Mr.  Pitkin's  private  office. 

"  Mr.  Pitkin !"  he  said. 

" You  here !"  exclaimed  Pitkin,  scowling.  "You 
needn't  ask  to  be  taken  back.     It's  no  use." 

"  I  don't  ask  it,"  answered  Phil. 

"  Then  what  are  you  here  for  ?" 

"  I  would  like  a  letter  of  recommendation,  that  I 
may  obtain  another  place.'' 

"  WeU,  well !"  said  Pitkin,  wagging  his  head.  "  If 
that  isn't  impudence." 

"What  is  impudence?"  asked  Phil.  "I  did  as 
well  as  I  could,  and  that  I  am  ready  to  do  for  an- 
other employer.  But  all  ask  me  for  a  letter  from 
you." 

"You  won't  get  any!"  said  Pitkin  abruptly. 
"  "Where  is  your  home  ?" 

"  I  have  none  except  in  this  city.' 

"  Where  did  you  come  from  ?" 

"  From  the  country." 

"  Then  I  advise  you  to  go  back  there.  You  may 
do  for  the  country.  You  are  out  of  place  in  the 
city." 


150  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

Poor  Phil !  Things  did  indeed  look  dark  for  him. 
"Without  a  letter  of  recommendation  from  Mr.  Pit- 
kin it  would  be  almost  impossible  for  him  to  secure 
another  place,  and  how  could  he  maintain  himself 
in  the  city  ?  He  didn't  wish  to  sell  papers  or  black 
boots,  and  those  were  about  the  only  paths  now 
open  to  him. 

"  I  am  having  a  rough  time !"  he  thought,  "  but  I 
will  try  not  to  get  discouraged." 

He  turned  upon  his  heel  and  walked  out  of  the 
store. 

As  he  passed  the  counter  where  Wilbur  was  stand- 
ing, the  young  man  said : 

"  I  am  awfully  sorry,  Philip.  It's  a  shajne !  If  I 
wasn't  broke  I'd  offer  to  lend  you  a  fiver." 

"  Thank  you  aU  the  same  for  your  kind  offer,  Wil- 
bur," said  Phil. 

"  Come  round  and  see  me." 

"  So  I  will— soon." 

He  left  the  store  and  wandered  aimlessly  about 
the  streets. 

Four  days  later,  sick  with  hope  deferred,  he  made 
his  way  down  to  the  wharf  of  the  Charleston  and 
Savannah  boats,  with  a  vague  idea  that  he  might  get 
a  job  of  carrying  baggage,  for  he  felt  that  he 
must  not  let  his  pride  interfere  with  doing  anything 
by  which  he  could  earn  an  honest  penny. 

It  so  happened  that  the  Charleston  boat  was  just 
m,  and  the  passengers  were  just  landing. 


PHIL  IS  ''BOUNCED:'  151 

Phil  stood  on  the  pier  and  gazed  listlessly  at  them 
as  they  disembarked. 

All  at  once  he  started  in  surprise,  and  his  heart 
beat  joyfully. 

There,  just  descending  the  gang-plank,  was  his 
tried  friend,  Mr.  Oliver  Carter,  whom  he  supposed 
over  a  thousand  miles  away  in  Florida. 

"  Mr.  Carter!"  exclaimed  Phil,  dashing  forward. 

"Philip!"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  much 
surprised.  "  How  came  you  here  ?  Did  Mr.  Pitkin 
send  you  ?" 


162  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 


CHAPTEE   XXIII. 

te  AN     EXPLANATION. 

IT  WOULD  be  hard  to  tell  which  of  the  two  was 
the  more  surprised  at  the  meeting,  Philip  or  Mr. 
Carter. 

"  I  don't  understand  how  Mr.  Pitkin  came  to  hear 
of  my  return.  I  didn't  telegraph,"  said  the  old  gen- 
tleman. 

"  I  don't  think  he  knows  anything  about  it,"  said 
Phil. 

"  Didn't  he  send  you  to  the  pier  ?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Then  how  is  it  that  you  are  not  in  the  store  at 
this  time  ?"  asked  Mr.  Carter,  puzzled. 

"  Because  I  am  no  longer  in  Mr.  Pitkin's  employ. 
I  was  discharged  last  Saturday." 

"  Discharged  !     What  for  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pitkin  gave  no  reason.  He  said  my  services 
were  no  longer  required.  He  spoke  roughly  to  me, 
and  has  since  declined  to  give  me  a  recommenda- 
tion, though  I  told  him  that  without  it  I  should  be 
unable  to  secure  employment  elsewhere." 

Mr.  Carter  frowned.  He  was  evidently  annoyed 
and  indignant. 


Phil  BtocKl  on  fee  pier  as  Mr.  Carter  descended  the  gangr-plank. 

—(See  page  151.) 


154  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  This  must  be  inquired  into,"  he  said.  "  Philip, 
call  a  carriage,  and  I  will  at  once  go  to  the  Astor 
House  and  take  a  room.  I  had  intended  to  go  at 
once  to  Mr.  Pitkin's,  but  I  shall  not  do  so  until  I 
have  had  an  explanation  of  this  outrageous  piece  of 
business." 

!^hil  was  rejoiced  to  hear  this,  for  he  was  at  the 
end  of  his  resources,  and  the  outlook  for  him  was 
decidedly  gloomy.  He  had  about  made  up  his  mind 
to  sink  his  pride  and  go  into  business  as  a  newsboy 
the  next  day,  but  the  very  unexpected  arrival  of  Mr. 
Carter  put  quite  a  new  face  on  matters. 

He  called  a  carriage,  and  both  he  and  Mr.  Carter 
entered  it. 

"  How  do  you  happen  to  be  back  so  soon,  sir  ?" 
asked  Phil,  when  they  were  seated.  "  I  thought  you 
were  going  to  Florida  for  a  couple  of  months." 

"  I  started  with  that  intention,  but  on  reaching 
Charleston  I  changed  my  mind.  I  expected  to  find 
some  friends  at  St.  Augustine,  but  I  learned  that 
they  were  already  returning  to  the  North,  and  I  felt 
that  I  should  be  lonely  and  decided  to  return.  I 
am  very  glad  I  did,  now.  Did  you  receive  my 
letter?" 

"  Your  letter  ?"  queried  Philip,  looking  at  Mr.  Car- 
ter in  surprise. 

"  Certainly.  I  gave  Alonzo  a  letter  for  you,  which 
I  had  directed  to  your  boarding-house,  and  requested 
him  to  mail  it.    It  contained  a  ten-dollar  bill." 


AN  EXPLANATION.  155 

"  I  never  received  any  such  letter,  sir.  It  would 
have  been  of  great  service  to  me — the  money,  I 
mean ;  for  I  have  found  it  hard  to  live  on  five  dol- 
lars a  week.     Now  I  have  not  even  that." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  Alonzo  could  have  suppressed 
the  letter  ?"  said  Mr.  Carter  to  himself. 

"  At  any  rate  I  never  received  it." 

"  Here  is  something  else  to  inquire  into,"  said  Mr. 
Carter.  "  If  Alonzo  has  tampered  with  my  letter, 
perhaps  appropriated  the  money,  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  him." 

"  I  hardly  think  he  would  do  that,  sir ;  though  I 
don't  like  him." 

'•  You  are  generous  ;  but  I  know  the  boy  better 
than  you  do.  He  is  fond  of  money,  not  for  the  sake 
of  spending  it,  but  for  the  sake  of  hoarding  it.  TeU 
me,  then,  how  did  you  learn  that  I  had  gone  to 
Florida  ?" 

"  I  learned  it  at  the  house  in  Twelfth  Street." 

"  Then  you  called  there  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  called  to  see  you.  I  found  it  hard  to 
get  along  on  my  salary,  and  I  did  not  want  Mrs. 
Forbush  to  lose  by  me,  so  I " 

"Mrs.  Forbush?"  repeated  the  old  gentleman 
quickly.     "  That  name  sounds  familiar  to  me." 

"  Mrs.  Forbush  is  your  niece,"  said  Phil,  a  hope 
rising  in  his  heart  that  he  might  be  able  to  do  his 
kind  landlady  a  good  turn. 

"Did  she  tell  you  that?" 


156  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

"  No,  sir;  that  is,  I  was  ignorant  of  it  until  I  met 
her  just  as  I  was  going  away  from  Mrs.  Pitkin's." 

"  Did  she  call  there,  too — to  see  me  ?"  asked  the 
old  gentleman, 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  but  she  got  a  very  cold  reception.  Mrs. 
Pitkin  was  ver}'^  rude  to  her,  and  said  that  you  were 
so  much  prejudiced  against  her  that  she  had  better 
not  caU  again." 

"That's  hke  her  cold  selfishness.  I  understand 
her  motives  very  weU.  I  had  no  idea  that  Mrs.  For- 
bush  was  in  the  city.     Is  she — poor  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  she  is  having  a  hard  struggle  to  main^ 
tain  herself  and  her  daughter." 

"  And  you  board  at  her  house  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"How  strangely  things  come  about!  She  is  as 
nearly  related  to  me  as  Lavinia — Mrs.  Pitkin." 

"  She  told  me  so." 

"  She  married  against  the  wishes  of  her  family, 
but  I  can  see  now  that  we  were  aU  unreasonably 
prejudiced  against  her.  Lavinia,  however,  trumped 
up  stories  against  her  husband,  which  I  am  now  led 
to  believe  were  quite  destitute  of  foundation,  and 
did  aU  she  could  to  keep  ahve  the  feud.  I  feel  now 
that  I  was  very  foolish  to  lend  myself  to  her  selfish 
ends.  Of  course  her  object  was  to  get  my  whole 
fortune  for  herself  and  her  boy." 

Phil  had  no  doubt  of  this,  but  he  did  not  like  to 
say  so,  for  it  would  seem  that  he,  too,  was  influ- 
enced by  selfish  motives. 


AN  EXPLANATION.  157 

"  Then  you  are  not  so  much  prejudiced  against 
Mrs.  Forbush  as  she  was  told  ?"  he  allowed  himself 
to  say. 

"  No,  no !"  said  Mr.  Carter  earnestly.  "  Poor  Re- 
becca !  She  has  a  much  better  nature  and  disposi- 
tion than  Mrs.  Pitkin.     And  you  say  she  is  poor  ?" 

"She  had  great  difficulty  in  paying  her  last 
month's  rent,'"  said  Philip. 

"  Where  does  she  live  ?" 

Phil  told  him. 

"  What  sort  of  a  house  is  it  ?" 

"It  isn't  a  brown-stone  front,"  answered  Phil, 
smiling.  "  It  is  a  poor,  cheap  house ;  but  it  is  as 
good  as  she  can  afford  to  hire." 

"  And  you  like  her  ?" 

"Very  much,  Mr.  Carter.  She  has  been  very 
kind  to  me,  and  though  she  finds  it  so  hard  to  get 
along,  she  has  told  me  she  will  keep  me  as  long  as 
she  has  a  roof  over  her  head,  though  just  now  I  can- 
not pay  my  board,  because  my  income  is  gone." 

"  It  wiU  come  back  again,  Philip,"  said  the  old 
gentleman. 

Phil  understood  by  this  that  he  would  be  restored 
to  his  place  in  Mr,  Pitkin's  establishment.  This  did 
not  ^deld  him  unalloyed  satisfaction,  for  he  was  sure 
that  it  would  be  made  unpleasant  for  him  by  Mr. 
Pitkin.  Still  he  would  accept  it,  and  meet  disagree- 
able things  as  well  as  he  could. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  Astor  House. 


158  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

Phil  jumped  out  first,  and  assisted  Mr.  Carter  to 
descend. 

He  took  Mr.  Carter's  hand-bag,  and  followed  him 
into  the  hotel. 

Mr.  Carter  entered  his  name  in  the  register. 

"  What  is  your  name  ?"  he  asked — "  Philip 
Brent?" 

"Yes,  SU-." 

"  I  will  enter  your  name,  too." 

"  Am  I  to  stay  here  ?"  asked  Phil,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes ;  I  shall  need  a  confidential  clerk,  and  for 
the  present  you  will  fill  that  position.  I  will  take 
two  adjoining  rooms — one  for  you." 

Phil  listened  in  surprise. 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  he  said. 

Mr.  Carter  gave  orders  to  have  his  trunk  sent  for 
from  the  steamer,  and  took  possession  of  the  room. 
Philip's  room  was  smaller,  but  considerably  more 
luxurious  than  the  one  he  occupied  at  the  house  of 
Mrs.  Forbush. 

"Have  you  any  money,  Philip?"  asked  the  old 
gentleman. 

"  I  have  twenty-five  cents,"  answered  Philip. 

"  That  isn't  a  very  large  sum,"  said  Mr.  Carter, 
smiling.  "  Here,  let  me  replenish  your  pocket- 
book." 

He  drew  four  five-dollar  bills  from  his  wallet  and 
handed  them  to  Phil. 

"  How  can  I  thank  you,  sir  ?"  asked  Phil  grate- 
fully.    ..  ' 


AN  EXPLANATION.  159 

"  Wait  till  you  have  more  to  thank  me  for.  Let 
me  tell  you  this,  that  in  trying  to  harm  you,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Pitkin  have  done  you  a  great  service." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Mrs.  Forbush  this  evening, 
if  you  can  spare  me,  to  let  her  know  that  she 
needn't  be  anxious  about  me." 

"  By  all  means.     You  can  go." 

"  Am  I  at  hberty  to  mention  that  I  have  seen  you, 
sir?" 

"  Yes.  Tell  her  that  I  will  call  to-morrow.  And 
you  may  take  her  this." 

Mr.  Carter  drew  a  hundred-dollar  bill  from  his 
wallet  and  passed  it  to  Phil. 

"  Get  it  changed  at  the  office  as  you  go  out,"  he 
said.     "  Come  back  as  soon  as  you  can." 

With  a  joyful  heart  Phil  jumped  on  a  Fourth 
Avenue  car  in  front  of  the  hotel,  and  started  on  his 
way  up  town." 


16U  TEE  ERRAND  B07. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

RAISING     THE     RENT. 

LEAVING  Phil,  we  will  precede  him  to  the 
house  of  Mrs.  Forbush. 

She  had  managed  to  pay  the  rent  due,  but  she  was 
not  out  of  trouble.  The  time  had  come  when  it  was 
necessary  to  decide  whether  she  would  retain  the 
house  for  the  following  year.  In  New  York,  as 
many  of  my  young  readers  may  know,  the  first  of 
May  is  moving-day,  and  leases  generally  begin  at 
that  date.  Engagements  are  made  generally  by  or 
before  March  1st. 

Mr.  Stone,  the  landlord,  called  upon  the  widow  to 
ascertain  whether  she  proposed  to  remain  in  the 
house. 

"  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  do  so,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush. 

She  had  had  diflBculty  in  making  her  monthly 
payments,  but  to  move  would  involve  expense,  and 
it  might  be  some  time  before  she  could  secure 
boarders  in  a  new  location. 

"  You  can't  do  better,"  said  the  landlord.  "  At 
fifty  doUars  a  month  this  is  a  very  cheap  house." 

"  You  mean  forty-five,  Mr.  Stone,"  said  Mrs.  For- 
bush. 


RAISING  THE  BENT.  161 

"  No,  I  don't,"  said  the  landlord. 

"  But  that  is  what  I  have  been  paying  this  last 
year." 

"  That  is  true,  but  I  ought  to  get  fifty  dollars,  and 
if  you  won't  pay  it  somebody  else  will." 

"  Mr.  Stone,"  said  the  widow,  in  a  troubled  voice, 
"I  hope  you  will  be  considerate.  It  has  been  as 
much  as  I  could  do  to  get  together  forty-five  dollars 
each  month  to  pay  you.  Indeed,  I  can  pay  no 
more." 

"  Pardon  me  for  saying  that  that  is  no  affair  of 
mine,"  said  the  landlord  brusquely.  "  If  you  can't 
pay  the  rent,  by  aU  means  move  into  a  smaller 
house.  If  you  stay  here  you  must  be  prepared  to 
pay  fifty  doUars  a  month." 

"  I  don't  see  how  I  can,"  answered  the  widow^  in 
dejection. 

"  I'U  give  you  three  days  to  consider  it,"  said  the 
landlord  indifferently.  "  You'll  make  a  mistake  if 
you  give  the  house  up.  However,  that  is  your 
affair." 

The  landlord  left  the  house,  and  Mrs.  Forbush  sat 
down  depressed. 

"  Julia,"  she  said  to  her  daughter,  "  I  wish  you 
were  old  enough  to  advise  me.  I  dislike  to  move, 
but  I  don't  dare  to  engage  to  pay  such  a  rent.  Fifty 
dollars  a  month  will  amount  to " 

"  Six  hundred  doUars  a  year !"  said  Juha,  who  was 
good  at  figures. 


162  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

"  And  that  seems  a  great  sum  to  us." 

4'  It  would  be  little  enough  to  Mrs.  Pitkin,"  said 
Julia,  who  felt  that  lady's  prosperity  unjust,  while 
her  poor,  patient  mother  had  to  struggle  so  hard  for 
a  scanty  livelihood. 

"  Oh,  yes ;  Lavinia  is  rolling  in  wealth,"  sighed 
Mrs.  Forbush.  "  I  can't  understand  how  Uncle 
Ohver  can  bestow  his  favors  on  so  selfish  a  wo- 
man." 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Philip's  advice  about  keep- 
ing the  house  ?"  said  Julia. 

It  must  be  explained  that  Philip  and  Julia  were 
already  excellent  friends,  and  it  may  be  said  that 
each  Avas  mutually  attracted  by  the  other. 

"Poor  Philip  has  his  own  troubles,"  said  Mrs. 
Forbush.  "  He  has  lost  his  place  through  the  malice 
and  jealousy  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pitkin,  for  I  am  sure 
that  Lavinia  is  the  cause  of  his  dismissal,  and  I  don't 
know  when  he  will  be  able  to  get  another." 

"  You  won't  send  him  away,  mother,  if  he  can't 
pay  his  board  ?" 

"  ]!^o,"  answered  her  mother  warmly.  "  Philip  is 
welcome  to  stay  with  us  as  long  as  we  have  a  roof 
over  our  heads,  whether  he  can  pay  his  board  or 
not." 

This  answer  seemed  very  satisfactory  to  Julia, 
who  rose  impulsively  and  kissed  her  mother. 

"  That's  a  good  mother,"  she  said.  "  It  would  be 
a  pity  to  send  poor  Philip  into  the  street." 


RAISING  THE  RENT.  163 

"  You  seem  to  like  Philip,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush, 
smiling  faintly. 

"  Yes,  mother.  You  know  I  haven't  any  brother, 
and  Phil  seems  just  like  a  brother  to  me." 

Just  then  the  door  opened,  and  Philip  himself 
entered  the  room. 

Generally  he  came  home  looking  depressed,  after 
a  long  and  ineffectual  search  for  employment.  Now 
he  was  fairly  radiant  with  joy. 

"  Phil,  you've  got  a  place ;  I  know  you  have !"  ex- 
claimed Julia,  noticing  his  glad  expression.  "  Where 
is  it  ?     Is  it  a  good  one  V 

"  Have  you  really  got  a  place,  Philip  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Forbush. 

"  Yes,  for  the  present." 

"  Do  you  think  you  shall  like  your  employer  V 

"He  is  certainly  treating  me  very  well,"  said 
Phil,  smiling.  "  He  has  paid  me  twenty  dollars  in 
advance." 

"  Then  the  age  of  wonders  has  not  passed,"  said 
the  widow.  "  Of  course  I  believe  you,  Phihp,  but  it 
seems  extraordinary." 

"  There  is  something  more  extraordinary  to  come," 
said  Phil.     "  He  has  sent  you.  some  money,  too." 

"  Me !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Forbush,  in  great  sm'prise. 
"  What  can  he  know  about  me  ?" 

"  I  told  him  about  you." 

"  But  we  are  strangers." 

"  He  used  to  know  you,  and  still  feels  an  interest 
in  you,  Mrs.  Forbush." 


164  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  "Who  can  it  be  ?"  said  the  widow,  looking  bewiL 
dered. 

"  I  don't  want  to  keep  you  in  suspense  any  longer, 
so  I  may  as  well  say  that  it  is  your  Uncle  Oliver." 

"  Uncle  Oliver !     Why,  he  is  in  Florida." 

"  No ;  he  came  home  from  Charleston.  I  happened 
to  be  at  the  pier — I  went  down  to  see  if  I  could  get 
a  job  at  smashing  baggage — when  I  saw  him  walk- 
ing down  the  gang-plank." 

"  Has  he  gone  to  his  old  quarters  at  Mr.  Pitkin's  ?" 

"  ISTo ;  what  I  told  about  the  way  they  treated  you 
and  me  made  him  angry,  and  he  drove  to  the  Astor 
House.  I  have  a  room  there,  too,  and  am  to  act  as 
his  private  secretary." 

"  So  that  is  your  new  situation,  Phil  ?"  said  Julia. 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  a  good  one." 

"  And  he  really  feels  kindly  to  me  ?"  said  Mrs. 
Forbush  hopefully. 

"  He  sends  you  this  and  will  call  to-morrow,"  said 
Phil.  "Actions  speak  louder  than  words.  There 
are  a  hundred  dollars  in  this  roll  of  bills. 

"  He  sent  all  this  to  me  ?"  she  said. 

"  Yes,  and  of  his  own  accord.  It  was  no  sugges- 
tion of  mine. 

"  Julia,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush,  turning  to  her  daugh- 
ter, "  I  beheve  God  has  heard  my  prayer,  and  that 
better  days  are  in  store  for  all  of  us." 

"  Philip  included,"  added  Phil,  smiling, 

"  Yes.     I  want  you  to  share  in  our  good  fortune." 


RAISING  THE  RENT.  165 

"  Mother,  jou  had  better  consult  Phil  about  keep- 
ing the  house." 

"  Oh,  yes." 

Mrs.  Forbush  thereupon  told  Philip  of  the  land- 
lord's visit  and  his  proposal  to  ask  a  higher  rent. 

"  I  hesitated  about  taking  the  house,"  she  said ; 
"  but  with  this  handsome  gift  from  Uncle  Oliver,  I 
don't  know  but  I  may  venture.  What  do  you 
think?" 

"  I  think,  Mrs.  Forbush,  you  had  better  not  decide 
till  you  have  seen  your  uncle.  He  may  have  some 
plan  of  his  own  for  3^ou.  At  any  rate,  you  had  bet- 
ter consult  him.  He  will  call  to-morrow.  And  now, 
let  me  pay  you  for  my  week's  board." 

"  No,  Philip.  I  shall  not  want  it  with  all  this 
money,  which  I  should  not  have  received  but  for 
you." 

"  A  debt  is  a  debt,  Mrs.  Forbush,  and  I  prefer  to 
pay  it.  I  shall  not  be  here  to  supper,  as  Mr. 
Carter  is  expecting  me  back  to  the  Astor  House.  I 
shall  probably  come  with  him  when  he  calls  upon 
you  to-morrow." 

On  his  return  to  the  hotel,  as  he  was  walking  on 
Broadway,  Phil  came  face  to  face  with  Alonzo  Pit- 
kin. 

"  I  think  I'll  ask  him  about  that  letter  his  uncle 
gave  him  to  post  to  me,"  thought  Phil,  and  he  waited 
until  Alonzo  was  close  at  hand. 


166  THE  ERRAND  B07, 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

ALONZO    IS    PUZZLED. 

ALONZO,  who  had  his  share  of  curiosity,  as  soon 
as  he  saw  Phil's  approach,  determined  to  speak 
to  him,  and  ascertain  what  were  his  plans  and  what 
he  was  doing.  With  the  petty  maUce  which  he  in- 
herited from  his  mother,  he  hoped  that  Phil  had 
been  unable  to  find  a  place  and  was  in  distress. 

"  It  would  serve  him  right,"  said  Alonzo  to  him- 
self, "for  trying  to  get  into  Uncle  Oliver's  good 
^aces.  "  I  s'pose  he  would  like  to  cut  me  out,  but 
he'U  find  that  he  can't  fight  against  ma  and  me." 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?"  was  Alonzo's  salutation  when 
they  met. 

"  Yes,"  answered  PML 

"Pa  bounced  you,  didn't  hef  continued  Alonzo 
complacently. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Phil.  "  That  is,  he  discharged 
me.     I  suppose  that  is  what  you  meant." 

"  You've  got  it  right  the  first  time,"  said  Alonzo. 
"  Have  you  got  another  place  ?" 

"  Do  you  ask  because  you  feel  interested  in  me  ?" 
asked  Phil. 

"  Well,  not  particularly,"  answered  Alonzo,  ap- 
pearing quite  amused  by  the  suggestion. 


ALONZO  IS  PUZZLED,  167 

"  Then  you  ask  out  of  curiosity  ?" 

"S'poseldo?" 

"I don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  have  found  a 
place,  then." 

""What   sort  of  a  place?"   asked  Alonzo,  disap- 
pointed. 

"  There  is  no  need  of  going  into  particulars." 

"No.     I  s'pose  not,"  sneered  Alonzo.     "You're 
probably  selling  papers  or  blacking  boots." 

"  You  are  mistaken.     I  have  a  much  better  situa- 
tion than  I  had  with  your  father." 

Alonzo's  lower  jaw  fell.    He  was  very  sorry  to 
hear  it. 

"Didn't  your  employer  ask  for  a  recommenda- 
tion?" 

"He  didn't  seem  to  think  one  necessary!"  re- 
plied PhiL 

"  If  he'd  known  pa  had  sacked  you,  he  wouldn't 
have  wanted  you,  I  guess." 

"He  knows  it.     Have  you  got  through  asking 
questions,  Alonzo?" 

"  You  are  too  familiar.    You  can  call  me  Mr.  Pit- 
kin." 

Phil  laughed  at  Alonzo's  assumption  of  dignity, 
but  made  no  comment  upon  it. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  what  you  did  with  that  letter 
Mr.  Carter  gave  you  to  post  for  me  ?"  asked  Phil. 

Alonzo  was  indeed  surprised,  not  to  say  dismayed 
The  truth  was  that,  judging  from  the  "  feel "  of  the 


168  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

letter,  it  contained  money,  and  he  had  opened  it 
and  appropriated  the  money  to  his  own  use.  More- 
over he  had  the  bank-note  in  his  pocket  at  that  very 
moment,  not  having  any  wish  to  spend,  but  rather 
to  hoard  it. 

"  That's  a  queer  question,"  he  stammered.  "  What 
letter  do  you  refer  to  ?" 

"  A  letter  Mr.  Carter  gave  you  to  mail  to  me." 

"  If  he  gave  me  any  such  letter  I  maUed  it,"  an- 
swered Alonzo,  scarcely  knowing  what  to  say. 

"  I  didn't  receive  it." 

"  How  do  you  know  he  gave  me  any  letter  ?"  de- 
manded Alonzo,  puzzled. 

"  I  don't  care  to  tell.  I  only  know  that  there  was 
such  a  letter  handed  to  you.  Do  you  know  what 
was  in  it  V 

"  Writing,  I  s'pose,"  said  Alonzo  flippantly. 

"  Yes,  there  was,  but  there  was  also  a  ten-dollar 
bill.  I  didn't  receive  the  letter,"  and  Phil  fixed  his 
eyes  searchingly  upon  the  face  of  Alonzo. 

"That's  a  pretty  story !"  said  Alonzo.  "I  don't 
believe  Uncle  OUver  would  be  such  a  fool  as  to  send 
you  ten  dollars.  If  he  did,  you  got  it,  and  now 
want  to  get  as  much  more,  pretending  you  haven't 
received  it." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Phil  quietly. 

"  If  you  didn't  get  the  letter,  how  do  you  know 
any  was  written,  and  that  there  ^vas  anything  in  it  ?" 
asked  Alonzo  triumphantly,  feeling  that  the  ques- 
tion was  a  crusher," 


ALONZO  IS  PUZZLED.  169 

"I  don't  care  to  tell  you  how  I  know  it.  Do  you 
deny  it?" 

"  I  don't  remember  whether  Uncle  Oliver  gave  me 
any  letter  or  not." 

"  "Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  give  me  his  address 
in  Florida,  so  that  I  may  write  to  him  and  find  out  ?" 

"  ]S"o,  I  won't,"  said  Alonzo  angrily,  "  and  I  think 
you  are  very  cheeky  to  ask  such  a  thing.  Ma  was 
right  when  she  said  that  you  were  the  most  impu- 
dent boy  she  ever  came  across." 

"  That's  enough,  Alonzo,"  said  Phil  quietly.  "  I've 
found  out  all  I  wanted  to." 

"  What  have  you  found  out  ?"  asked  Alonzo,  his 
tone  betraying  some  apprehension. 

"  Never  mind.  I  think  I  know  what  became  of 
that  letter." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  opened  it  and  took  out 
the  money  ?"  demanded  Alonzo,  reddening. 

"  I  wouldn't  charge  anybody  with  such  a  mean 
act,  unless  I  felt  satisfied  of  it." 

"  You'd  better  not !"  said  Alonzo,  in  a  bullying 
tone.  "  If  I  find  out  who  you're  working  for,  I'll  let 
him  know  that  pa  bounced  you." 

"  Just  as  you  please !  I  don't  think  that  any 
words  of  yours  will  injure  me  with  the  gentleman  I 
have  the  good  fortune  to  work  for." 

"  Don't  you  be  too  sure  !  If  you  think  he  wouldn't 
mind  a  boy,  I'll  refer  him  to  pa  and  ma.  They'll 
give  you  a  good  setting  out." 


170  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"I  don't  doubt  it,"  said  Phil  indifferently,  and 
turned  to  go  away. 

He  was  called  back  by  Alonzo,  who  had  not  quite 
satisfied  his  curiosity. 

"  Say,  are  you  boarding  with  that  woman  who 
came  to  see  ma  the  same  day  you  were  at  the  house  ?" 
hq  asked. 

"  No ;  I  have  left  her.'' 

Alonzo  looked  well  pleased.  He  knew  that  his 
mother  felt  rather  uneasy  at  the  two  being  together, 
dreading  lest  they  should  make  a  concerted  attempt 
to  ingratiate  themselves  with  her  rich  uncle. 

"  Ma  says  she  behaved  very  badly,"  Alonzo  could 
not  help  adding. 

"Mrs.  Forbush  is  an  excellent  lady,"  said  Phil 
warmly,  for  he  could  not  hear  one  of  his  friends 
spoken  against. 

•'  Lady !  She's  as  poor  as  poverty,"  sneered 
Alonzo. 

"  She  is  none  the  worse  for  that." 

"  Uncle  Oliver  can't  bear  her !" 

"  Indeed !"  said  Phil,  pausing  to  see  what  else 
Alonzo  would  say. 

"  Ma  says  she  disgraced  herself,  and  all  her  rela- 
tions gave  her  up.  When  you  see  her  tell  her  she 
had  better  not  come  sneaking  round  the  house 
again." 

"  If  you  will  write  a  letter  to  that  effect,  I  will  see 
that  she  gets  it,"  said  Phil.  "  That  letter  won't  mis- 
carry " 


ALONZO  IS  PUZZLED.  171 

"I  don't  care  to  take  any  notice  of  her,"  said 
Alonzo  loftily. 

"  You  are  very  kind  to  have  wasted  so  much  no- 
tice upon  me,"  said  Phil,  amused. 

Alonzo  did  not  see  fit  to  answer  this,  but  walked 
away  with  his  head  in  the  air.  He  was,  however, 
not  quite  easy  in  mind. 

"  How  in  the  world,"  he  asked  himself,  "  could 
that  boy  have  found  out  that  Uncle  Oliver  gave  me 
a  letter  to  post  ?  If  he  should  learn  that  I  opened 
it  and  took  the  money,  there'd  be  a  big  fuss.  I  guess 
I'd  better  not  meet  him  again.  If  I  see  him  any 
day  I'll  go  in  a  different  direction.  He's  so  artful 
he  may  get  me  into  trouble." 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  neither  Mr.  or  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin knew  of  Alonzo's  tampering  with  the  letter. 
Much  as  they  would  have  been  opposed  to  Phil's  re- 
ceiving such  a  letter,  the}^  would  have  been  too  wise 
to  sanction  such  a  bold  step. 

"^  Well,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  when  Phil  returned,  "  did 
you  see  Rebecca — Mrs.  Forbush  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  handed  her  the  money.  She  was 
overjoyed ;  not  so  much  at  receiving  so  generous  a 
sum  as  at  learning  that  you  were  reconciled  to  her." 

"  Poor  girl !"  said  the  old  man,  forgetting  that  she 
was  now  a  worn  woman.  "  I  am  afraid  that  she 
must  have  suffered  much." 

"  She  has  met  with  many  hardships,  sir,  but  she 
won't  mind  them  now." 


173  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 

"  If  I  live  her  future  shall  be  brighter  than  her 
past.  I  will  call  to-morrow.  You,  Philip,  shall  go 
with  me." 

"  I  should  like  to  do  so,  sir.  By  the  way,  I  met 
Alonzo  on  Broadway." 

He  detailed  the  conversation  that  had  taken  place 
between  them. 

"I  am  afraid  he  took  the  money,"  said  Mr.  Carter. 
"  I  am  sorry  any  relative  of  mine  should  have  acted 
in  that  way.  Let  him  keep  it.  Any  benefit  he  may 
derive  from  it  will  prove  to  have  been  dearly  pur- 
chased." 


A  WONDERFUL  CHANGE.  173 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

A      WONDERFUL     CHANGE. 

YOU  MAY  order  a  carriage,  Philip."  said  Mr. 
Carter  the  next  morning.  ''  Pick  out  a  hand- 
some one  with  seats  for  four." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

In  five  minutes  the  carriage  was  at  the  door. 

"  Now,  Philip,  we  will  go  to  see  my  long-neglected 
niece,  Mrs.  Forbush.  Give  the  driver  the  necessary 
directions." 

"  Mrs.  Forbush  does  not  have  many  carriage-call- 
ers," said  Philip,  smiling. 

"  Pe  laps  she  will  have  more  hereafter,"  said  Mr. 
Carter  "  I  ought  not  so  long  to  have  lost  sight  of 
her.  always  liked  Rebecca  better  than  Lavinia, 
yet  I  let  the  latter  prejudice  me  against  her  cousin, 
who  is  in  disposition,  education  and  sincerity  her 
superior.  You  see,  Phihp,  there  are  old  fools  in  the 
world  as  well  as  young  ones." 

"  It  is  never  too  late  to  mend,  Mr.  Carter,"  said 
Phil,  smiling. 

"  That's  very  true,  even  if  it  is  a  young  philoso- 
pher who  says  it." 

"  I  don't  claim  any  originality  for  it,  Mr.  Carter." 


174  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  By  the  way,  Philip,  I  have  noticed  that  you  al« 
ways  express  yourself  very  correctly.  Your  educa- 
tion must  be  good." 

"  Yes,  sir,  thanks  to  my  father,  or  the  man  whom 
I  always  regarded  as  my  father.  I  am  a  fair  Latin 
scholar,  and  know  something  of  Greek." 

fc"Were  you  preparing  for  coUege?"  asked  Mr. 
Carter,  with  interest. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  "Would  you  like  to  go  ?" 

"I  should  have  gone  had  father  lived,  but  my 
step-mother  said  it  was  foohshness  and  would  be 
money  thrown  away." 

"  Perhaps  she  preferred  to  incur  that  expense  for 
her  own  son  ?"  suggested  the  old  gentleman. 

"Jonas  wouldn't  consent  to  that.  He  detests 
study,  and  would  decidedly  object  to  going  to  col- 
lege." 

"By  the  way,  you  haven't  heard  from  them 
lately?" 

"  Only  that  they  have  left  our  old  home  and  gone 
no  one  knows  where." 

"  That  is  strange." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  humble  dwell- 
ing occupied  by  Mrs.  Forbush. 

"  And  so  this  is  where  Rebecca  lives  ?"  said  Mr. 
Carter. 

"  Yes,  sir.  It  is  not  quite  so  nice  as  Mrs.  Pitkin's.** 

"No,"  returned  Mr.  Carter  thoughtfully. 


A  WONDERFUL  CHANOE.  I75 

Philip  rang  the  bell,  and  the  two  were  admitted 
into  the  humble  parlor.  They  had  not  long  to  wait 
for  Mrs.  Forbush,  who,  with  an  agitation  which  she 
could  not  overcome,  entered  the  presence  of  her  long 
estranged  and  wealthy  uncle. 

"  Rebecca !"  exclaimed  the  old  gentleman,  rising, 
and  showing  some  emotion  as  he  saw  the  changes 
which  fifteen  years  had  made  in  the  niece  whom  he 
had  last  met  as  a  girl. 

"  Uncle  Oliver !  how  kind  you  are  to  visit  me !" 
cried  Mrs.  Forbush,  the  tears  starting  from  her 
eyes. 

"  Kind !  Nonsense !  I  have  been  very  unkind  to 
neglect  you  so  long.  But  it  wasn't  all  my  fault. 
There  were  others  who  did  aU  they  could  to  keep  us 
apart.     You  have  lost  your  husband  ?" 

"  Yes,  uncle.  He  was  poor,  but  he  was  one  of  the 
kindest  and  best  of  men,  and  made  me  happy." 

"  I  begin  to  think  I  have  been  an  old  fool,  He 
becca.     Philip  thinks  so,  too." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Carter !"  exclaimed  our  hero. 

"  Yes,  you  do,  Philip,"  asserted  Mr.  Carter,  "  and 
you  are  quite  right.  However,  as  you  told  me,  it  is 
never  too  late  to  mend." 

"  Mrs.  Forbush  will  think  I  take  strange  liberties 
with  you,  sir." 

"  I  don't  object  to  good  advice,  even  from  a  boy. 
But  who  is  this?" 

Julia  had  just  entered  the  room.     She  was  a 


176  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

bright,  attractive  girl,  but  held  back  bashfully  untU 
her  mother  said : 

"Julia,  this  is  Uncle  OUver  Carter.  You  have 
heard  me  speak  of  him." 

"  Tes,  mamma." 

"  And  scold  about  him,  I  dare  say.  "WeU,  Julia, 
cdme  and  give  your  old  uncle  a  kiss. 

Julia  blushed,  but  obeyed  her  uncle's  request. 

"  I  should  know  she  was  your  child,  Rebecca. 
She  looks  as  you  did  at  her  age.  Now  tell  me,  have 
you  any  engagement  this  morning,  you  two  ?" 

"No,  Uncle  Oliver." 

"  Then  I  will  find  one  for  you.  I  have  a  carriage 
at  the  door.  You  will  please  put  on  your  bonnets. 
"We  are  going  shopping." 

"Shopping?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  going  to  fit  out  both  of  you  in  .a  man- 
ner more  befitting  relatives  of  mine.  The  fact  is, 
Niece  Rebecca,  you  are  actually  shabby." 

"  I  know  it,  uncle,  but  there  has  been  so  many 
ways  of  spending  money  that  I  have  had  to  neglect 
my  dress. 

"  Yery  likely.  I  understand.  Things  are  dif- 
ferent now.  Now,  don't  be  over  an  hour  getting 
ready !" 

"  We  are  not  fashionable,  uncle,"  said  Mrs.  For- 
bush,  "and  we  haven't  any  change  to  make." 

They  entered  the  carriage,  and  drove  to  a  large 
and  fashionable  store,  where  everything  necessary 


A  WONDERFUL  CHANGE,  177 

to  a  lady's  toilet,  including  dresses  quite  complete, 
could  be  obtained.  Mrs.  Forbush  was  in  favor  of 
selecting  very  plain  articles,  but  her  uncle  over- 
ruled her,  and  pointed  out  costumes  much  more 
costly. 

"But,  uncle,"  objected  Mrs.  Forbush,  "these 
things  won't  at  all  correspond  with  our  plain  home 
and  mode  of  living.  Think  of  a  boarding-house 
keeper  arrayed  like  a  fine  lady." 

"  You  are  going  to  give  up  taking  boarders — that 
is,  you  will  have  none  bi«-t  Philip  and  myself." 

"  Will  you  really  live  with  us,  uncle  ?  But  the 
house  is  too  poor." 

"  Of  course  it  is,  but  you  are  going  to  move.  I 
will  speak  further  on  this  point  when  you  are 
through  your  purchases."  

At  length  the  shopping  was  over,  and  they  re- 
entered the  carriage. 

"  Drive  to  No.  —  Madison  Avenne,"  said  Mr.  Car- 
ter to  the  driver. 

"  Uncle  Oliver,  you  have  given  the  wrong  direc- 
tion." 

"  No,  Rebecca,  I  know  what  I  am  about." 

"  Do  you  Kve  on  Madison  Avenue  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Forbush. 

"  I  am  going  to,  and  so  are  you.  You  must  know 
that  I  own  a  furnished  house  on  Madison  Avenue. 
The  late  occupants  sailed  for  Europe  last  "*^<  ek,  and 
I  was  looking  out  for  a  tenant  when  I  found  you. 


178  THE  EBB  AND  BOY. 

You  will  move  there  to-morrow,  and  act  as  house- 
keeper, taking  care  of  Philip  and  myself.  1  hope 
Julia  and  you  will  like  it  as  well  as  your  present 
home." 

"How  can  I  thank  you  for  aU  your  kindness, 
Uncle  Oliver  ?"  said  Mrs.  Forbush,  with  joyful  tears. 
"  It  will  be  living  once  more.  It  will  be  such  a  rest 
from  the  hard  struggle  I  have  had  of  late  years." 

"  You  can  repay  me  by  humoring  all  my  whims," 
said  Uncle  Oliver,  smiling.  "  You  will  find  me  very 
t}Tannical.  The  least  infraction  of  my  rules  will 
lead  me  to  send  you  all  packing." 

"  Am  I  to  be  treated  in  the  same  way,  Mr.  Carter  ?" 
asked  Philip. 

"Exactly." 

"  Then,  if  you  discharge  me,  I  will  fly  for  refuge 
to  Mr.  Pitkin." 

"  That  wiU  be  '  out  of  the  frying-pan  into  the  fire  * 
with  a  vengeance." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  house.  It  was 
an  elegant  brown-stone  front,  and  proved,  on 
entrance,  to  be  furnished  in  the  most  complete  and 
elegant  manner.  Mr.  Carter  selected  the  second 
floor  for  his  own  use;  a  good-sized  room  on  the 
third  was  assigned  to  PhiHp,  and  Mrs.  Forbush  was 
told  to  select  such  rooms  for  Julia  and  herself  as  she 
desired 

rhiji'-l.  much  finer  than  Mrs.  Pitkin's  house," 
said  Philip. 


A  WONDERFUL  CHANGE.  179 

"Yes,  it  is." 

"  She  will  be  jealous  when  she  hears  of  it." 

"  No  doubt.  That  is  precisely  what  I  desire.  It 
wiU  be  a  fitting  punishment  for  her  treatment  of 
her  own  cousin." 

It  was  arranged  that  on  the  morrow  Mrs.  Forbush 
and  Julia  should  close  their  small  house,  leaving 
directions  to  sell  the  humble  furniture  at  auction, 
while  Mr.  Carter  and  Philip  would  come  up  from 
the  Astor  House. 

"  "What  will  the  Pitkins  say  when  they  hear  of 
it  ?"  thought  Philip.  "  I  am  afraid  they  will  feel 
bad." 


V  -• 


180  THE  EBB  AND  BOY, 


CHAPTEE  XXVn. 

AN   UNPLEASANT   SUBPBISE. 

WHILE  these  important  changes  were  ooctir- 
ring  in  the  lives  of  Philip  Brent  and  the  pocar 
cousin,  Mrs.  Pitkin  remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of 
what  was  going  on.  Alonzo  had  told  her  of  his  en- 
counter with  Phil  on  Broadway  and  the  intelligence 
our  hero  gave  him  of  his  securing  a  place. 

"  You  may  rest  assured  the  boy  was  lying,  Lonny," 
said  Mrs.  Pitkin.  "  Boys  don't  get  places  so  easily, 
especially  when  they  can't  give  a  recommendation 
from  their  last  employer. 

"  That's  just  what  I  thought,  ma,"  said  Alonzo. 
"  Still  Phil  looked  in  good  spirits,  and  he  was  as 
saucy  as  ever." 

"  I  can  believe  the  last  very  well,  Lonny.  The 
boy  is  naturally  impertinent.  They  were  probably 
put  on  to  deceive  you." 

"  But  how  does  he  get  money  to  pay  his  way  ?" 
said  Alonzo  puzzled. 

"As  to  that,  he  is  probably  selling  papers  or 
blacking  boots  in  the  lower  part  of  the  city.  He 
could  make  enough  to  live  on,  and  of  course  he 
wouldn't  let  you  know  what  he  was  doing." 


AN  UNPLEASANT  SURPRISE.  181 

"  I  hope  you're  right,  ma.  I'd  give  ever  so  much 
to  catch  him  blacking  boots  in  City  Hall  Park,  or 
anywhere  else ;  I'd  give  him  a  job.  Wouldn't  he 
feel  mortified  to  be  caught  ?" 

"  No  doubt  he  would." 

"  I've  a  great  mind  to  go  down  town  to-morrow 
and  look  about  for  him." 

"  Yery  weU,  Lonny.  You  may  go  if  you  want 
to." 

Alonzo  did  go ;  but  he  looked  in  vain  for  Phil. 
The  latter  was  employed  in  doing  some  wi^iting  and 
attending  to  some  accounts  for  Mr.  Carter,  who  had 
by  this  time  found  that  hh^otege  was  thoroughly 
weU  qualified  for  such  work. 

So  nearly  a  week  passed.  It  so  chanced  that 
though  Uncle  Oliver  had  now  been  in  New  York  a 
considerable  time,  not  one  of  the  Pitkins  had  met 
him  or  had  reason  to  suspect  that  he  was  nearer 
than  Florida. 

One  day,  however,  among  Mrs.  Pitkin's  callers 
was  Mrs.  Yangriff,  a  fashionable  acquaintance. 

"  Mr.  Oliver  Carter  is  your  uncle,  I  believe  ?"  said 
the  visitor. 

"Yes." 

"  I  met  him  on  Broadway  the  other  day.  He  was 
looking  very  well." 

"  It  must  have  been  a  fortnight  since,  then.  Uncle 
Oliver  is  in  Florida." 

"  In  Florida !"  repeated  Mrs.  Yangriff,  in  surprise, 
«  When  did  he  go  ?" 


182  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  When  was  it,  Lonny  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Pitkin,  ap- 
pealing to  her  son. 

"  It  will  be  two  weeks  next  Thursday." 

"  There  must  be  some  mistake,"  said  the  visitor. 
"  I  saw  Mr.  Carter  on  Broadway,  near  Twentieth 
Street,  day  before  yesterday." 

"Quite  a  mistake,  I  assure  you,  Mrs.  Yangriff," 
said  Mrs.  Pitkin,  smiling.  "  It  was  some  other  per- 
son.    You  were  deceived  by  a  fancied  resemblance." 

"It  is  you  who  are  wrong,  Mrs.  Pitkin,"  said 
Mrs.  Yangriff,  positively.  "I  am  somewhat  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Carter,  and  I  stopped  to  speak 
with  him." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  this  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Pitkin,  look- 
ing startled. 

"  Certainly,  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  Did  you  call  him  by  name  ?" 

"Certainly;  and  even  inquired  after  you.  He 
answered  that  he  believed  you  were  well.  I  thought 
he  was  living  with  you  ?" 

"  So  he  was,"  answered  Mrs.  Pitkin  cooUy  as  pos- 
sible, considering  the  startling  nature  of  the  infor- 
mation she  had  received.  "  Probably  Uncle  Oliv^ 
returned  sooner  than  he  anticipated,  and  was  merely 
passing  through  the  city.  He  has  important  bus- 
iness interests  at  the  "West." 

"  I  don't  think  he  was  merely  passing  through  the 
city,  for  a  friend  of  mine  saw  him  at  the  Fifth 
Avenue  Theater  last  evening." 


AN  UNPLEASANT  SURPRISE.  183 

Mrs.  Pitkin  actually  turned  as  pale  as  her  sallow 
complexion  would  admit. 

"  I  am  rather  surprised  to  hear  this,  I  admit,"  she 
said.     "  Was  he  alone,  do  you  know  ?" 

"  No ;  he  had  a  lady  and  a  boy  with  him." 

"  Is  it  possible  that  Uncle  Oliver  has  been  mar- 
ried to  some  designing  widow  ?"  Mrs.  Pitkin  asked 
herself.    "  It  is  positively  terrible !" 

She  did  not  dare  to  betray  her  agitation  before 
Mrs.  Vangriff,  and  sat  on  thorns  tiU  that  lady  saw 
fit  to  take  leave.  Then  she  turned  to  Alonzo  and 
said,  in  a  hollow  voice : 

"  Lonny,  you  heard  what  that  woman  said  ?" 

"You  bet!" 

"  Do  you  think  Uncle  Oliver  has  gone  and  got 
married  again  ?"  she  asked,  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  a  mite,  ma,"  was  the  not 
consoUtary  reply. 

"  If  so,  what  will  become  of  us  ?  My  poor  boy,  I 
looked  upon  you  and  myself  as  likely  to  receive  aU 

of  Uncle  Oliver's  handsome  property.  As  it  is ^" 

and  she  almost  broke  down. 

"  Perhaps  he's  only  engaged  ?"  suggested  Alonzo. 

"  To  be  sure  !"  said  his  mother,  brightening  up. 
"  If  so,  the  affair  may  yet  be  broken  off.  Oh,  Lonny, 
I  never  thought  your  uncle  was  so  artful.  His  trip 
to  Florida  was  only  a  trick  to  put  us  off  the  scent." 

"  "What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it,  ma  ?" 

"  I  must  find  out  as  soon  as  possible  where  Uncle 


184  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

Oliver  is  staying.  Then  I  will  see  him,  and  try  to 
cure  him  of  his  infatuation.  He  is  evidently  trying 
to  keep  us  in  the  dark,  or  he  would  have  come  back 
to  his  rooms." 

"  How  are  you  going  to  find  out,  ma  ?" 
"  I  don't  know.     That's  what  puzzles  me." 
"  S'pose  you  hire  a  detective  ?"  ^ 

"  I  wouldn't  dare  to.  Your  uncle  would  be  angry 
when  he  found  it  out." 

"  Do  you  y'pose  Phil  knows  anything  about  it  ?" 
suggested  Alonzo. 

"  I  don't  know ;  it  is  hardly  probable.  Do  you 
know  where  he  lives  ?" 

•'  "With  the  woman  who  called  here  and  said  she 
was  your  cousin." 

"  Yes,  I  remember,  Lonny.  I  will  order  the  car- 
riage, and  we  will  go  there.  But  you  must  be  very 
careful  not  to  let  them  know  Uncle  Oliver  is  in  New 
York.     I  don't  wish  them  to  meet  him." 

"  All  right !  I  ain't  a  fool.  You  can  trust  me,  ma." 

Soon  the  Pitkin  carriage  was  as  the  door,  and  Mrs. 

Pitkin  and  Alonzo  entered  it,  and  were  driven  to 

the  shabby  house  so  recently  occupied  by  Mrs.  For- 

bush. 

"  It's  a  low  place !"  said  Alonzo  contemptuously, 
as  he  regarded  disdainfully  the  small  dwelling. 

"  Yes  ;  but  I  suppose  it  is  as  good  as  she  can  af- 
ford to  live  in.  Lonny,  will  you  get  out  and  ring 
the  bell  1    Ask  if  Mrs,  Forbush  lives  there." 


AN  UNPLISASANT  8URPEI8E.  185 

Alonzo  did  as  requested. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  small  girl,  whose 
shabby  dress  was  in.  harmony  with  the  place. 

"  Kebecca's  child,  I  suppose !"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin, 
who  was  looking  out  of  the  carriage  window. 

"  Does  Mrs.  Forbush  live  here  ?"  asked  Alonzo. 

"  No,  she  doesn't.     Mrs.  Kavanagh  lives  here. 

"  Didn't  Mrs.  Forbush  used  to  live  here  ?"  further 
asked  Alonzo,  at  the  suggestion  of  his  mother. 

"  I  beheve  she  did.     She  moved  out  a  week  ago." 

"  Do  you  know  where  she  moved  to  V 

"  No,  I  don't." 

"  Does  a  boy  named  Philip  Brent  live  here  ?" 

«  No,  he  doesn't." 

"Do  you  know  why  Mrs.  Forbush  moved  away  ?" 
asked  Alonzo  again,  at  the  suggestion  of  his 
mother. 

"  Guess  she  couldn't  pay  her  rent." 

"Yery  Ukely,"  said  Alonzo,  who  at  last  had  re- 
ceived an  answer  with  which  he  was  pleased. 

"  WeU,  ma,  there  isn't  any  more  to  find  out  here," 
he  said. 

"  Tell  the  driver — home !"   said  his  mother. 

When  they  reached  the  house  in  Twelfth  Street, 
there  was  a  surprise  in  store  for  them. 

"  "Who  do  you  think's  up-stairs,  mum  ?"  said  Han- 
nah, looking  important. 

"Who?    TeU  me  quick!" 

"  It's  your  Uncle  Oliver,  mum,  just  got  home  from 


186  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

Florida;  but  I  guess  he's  going  somewhere  else^ 
mum,  for  he's  packing  up  his  things." 

"  Alonzo,  we  will  go  up  and  see  him,"  said  Mrs. 
Fitkiii,   excited.      ''I    must    know  what    all    this 


AN  TINS ATI8FAGT0R7  CONFERENCE.         187 


CHAPTER  XXVin. 

AN    UNSATISFACTORY  CONFERENCE. 

MR.  CARTER  was  taking  articles  from  a  bureau 
and  packing  them  away  in  an  open  trunk, 
when  Mrs.  Pitkin  entered  with  Alonzo.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  his  niece  regarded  his  employment 
with  dismay,  for  it  showed  clearly  that  he  proposed 
to  leave  the  shelter  of  her  roof. 

"  Uncle  Oliver !"  she  exclaimed,  sinking  into  a 
chair  and  gazing  at  the  old  gentleman  sj^U-bound. 

Mr.  Carter,  whose  back  had  been  turned,  turned 
about  and  faced  his  niece. 

"  Oh,  it  is  you,  Lavinia !"  he  said  quietly. 

"  What  are  you  doing  ?"  asked  his  niece. 

"  As  you  see,  I  am  packing  my  trunk." 

"  Do  you  intend  to  leave  us  ?"  faltered  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin. 

"  I  think  it  will  be  well  for  me  to  make  a  change," 
said  Mr.  Carter. 

"  This  is,  indeed,  a  sad  surprise,"  said  Mrs  Pitkin 
mournfully.    When  did  you  return  from  Florida  ?" 

"  I  have  never  been  there.  I  changed  my  mind 
when  I  reached  Charleston." 

*'  How  long  have  you  been  in  the  city  ?" 


188  TEE  ERRAND  BOT. 

"  About  a  week." 

"  And  never  came  near  us.  This  is,  indeed,  im- 
kind.  In  what  way  have  we  offended  you  ?"  and 
Mrs.  Pitkin  put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes. 

There  were  no  tears  in  them,  but  she  was  making 
an  attempt  to  touch  the  heart  of  her  uncle. 

"  Are  you  aware  that  Kebecca  Forbush  is  in  the 
city  ?"  asked  the  old  gentleman  abruptly. 

"  Ye-es,"  answered  Mrs.  Pitkin,  startled. 

"  Have  you  seen  her  ?" 

"  Ye-es.     She  came  here  one  day." 

"  And  how  did  you  treat  her  ?"  asked  Mr.  Carter, 
severely.  "  Did  you  not  turn  the  poor  woman  from 
the  house,  having  no  regard  for  her  evident  pov- 
erty ?  Did  you  not  tell  her  that  I  was  very  angry 
with  her,  and  would  not  hear  her  name  mentioned  ?" 

'•  Ye-es,  I  may  have  said  so.  You  know,  Uncle 
Oliver,  you  have  held  no  communication  with  her 
for  many  years." 

"  That  is  true — more  shame  to  me !" 

"  And  I  thought  I  was  carrying  out  your  wishes 
in  discouraging  her  visits." 

"  You  also  thought  that  she  might  be  a  dangerous 
rival  in  my  favor,  and  might  deprive  you  and  Alonzo 
of  an  expected  share  in  my  estate." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Ohver  !  how  can  you  think  so  poorly 
of  me?" 

Mr.  Carter  eyed  his  niece  with  a  half-smile. 

"  So  I  do  you  injustice,  do  I,  Lavinia  ?"  he  returned. 


AN  Vif SATISFACTORY  CONFERENCE.         189 

"Yes,  great  injustice." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  I  feel  less  objection  now 
to  telling  you  what  are  my  future  plans/' 

"  What  are  they  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Pitkin  apprehen 
sively. 

"  I  have  lived  for  ten  years  under  your  roof,  and 
have  had  no  communication,  as  you  say,  with  Re- 
becca. I  think  it  is  only  fair  now  that  I  should 
show  her  some  attention.  I  have  accordingly  in- 
stalled her  as  mistress  of  my  house  in  Madison 
Avenue,  and  shall  henceforth  make  my  home  with 
her." 

Mrs.  Pitkin  felt  as  if  the  earth  Avas  sinking  under 
her  feet.  The  hopes  and  schemes  of  so  many  years 
had  come  to  naught,  and  her  hated  and  dreaded 
cousin  was  to  be  constantly  in  the  society  of  the  rich 
uncle. 

"  Rebecca  has  played  her  cards  well,"  she  said  bit- 
terly. 

"  She  has  not  played  them  at  all.  She  did  not 
seek  me.     I  sought  her." 

"  How  did  you  know  she  was  in  the  city  ?" 

"  I  learned  it  from — Philip !" 

There  was  fresh  dismay. 

"  So  that  boy  has  wormed  his  way  into  your  con- 
fidence !"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin  bitterly.  "  After  acting 
so  badly  that  Mr.  Pitkin  was  obhged  to  discharge 
him,  he  ran  to  you  to  do  us  a  mischief." 

"  Why  was  he  discharged  V  demanded  Mr.  Carter 


190  THE  ERRAND  BO  T. 

sternly.  "  "Why  did  your  husband  seize  the  oppor- 
tunity to  get  rid  of  a  boy  in  whom  he  knew  me  to 
be  interested  as  soon  as  he  thought  I  was  out  of  the 
way  ?  Why,  moreover,  did  he  refuse  the  boy  a  ref 
erence,  without  which  Philip  could  scarcely  hope  to 
get  employment  ?" 

te  You  will  have  to  ask  Mr.  Pitkin.  I  am  sure  he 
had  good  reason  for  the  course  he  took.  He's  an 
impudent,  low  upstart  in  my  opinion." 

"  So  he  is,  ma !"  chimed  in  Alonzo,  with  hearti- 
ness. 

"  Ah  !  I  have  something  to  say  to  you,  Alonzo,'' 
said  Mr.  Carter,  turning  his  keen  glances  upon  the 
boy.  "  What  became  of  that  letter  I  gave  to  you 
to  post  just  before  I  went  away  ?" 

"I  put  it  in  the  letter-box,"  said  Alonzo  nerv- 
ously. 

"  Do  you  know  what  was  in  it  ?" 

"  No,"  answered  Alonzo,  but  he  lookea  frightened. 

"  There  were  ten  dollars  in  it.  That  letter  never 
reached  Phil,  to  whom  it  was  addressed." 

"I — don't  know  anything  about  it,"  faltered 
Alonzo. 

"  There  are  ways  of  finding  out  whether  letters 
have  been  posted,"  said  Mr.  Carter.  "  I  might  put 
a  detective  on  the  case." 

Alonzo  turned  pale,  and  looked  much  discom- 
posed. 

"  Of  what  are  you  accusing  my  boy  ?"  asked  Mrs. 


AN  UNSATISFACTORY  CONFERENCE.         191 

Pitkin,  ready  to  contend  for  her  favorite.  "  So  that 
boy  has  been  telling  lies  about  hira,  has  he  ?  and 
you  believe  scandalous  stories  about  your  own  flesh 
and  blood  ?" 

"  !N"ot  exactly  that,  Lavinia." 

"  "Well,  your  near  relation,  and  that  on  the  testi- 
mony of  a  boy  you  kno^r  nothing  about.  "When 
Lonny  is  so  devoted  to  you,  too !" 

"I  never  noticed  any  special  devotion,"  said  Mr. 
Carter,  amused.  "  You  are  mistaken,  however, 
about  Philip  trying  to  injure  him.  I  simply  asked 
Philip  whether  he  had  received  such  a  letter,  and  he 
said  no." 

"  I  dare  say  he  did  receive  it,"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin 
spitefully. 

"  We  won't  argue  the  matter  now,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  '•  I  will  only  say  that  you  and  Alonzo, 
and  Mr.  Pitkin  also,  have  gone  the  wrong  way  to 
work  to  secure  my  favor.  You  have  done  what  you 
could  to  injure  two  persons,  one  your  own  cousin, 
because  you  were  jealous." 

"You  judge  me  very  hardly,  uncle,"  said  Mrs. 
Pitkin,  seeing  that  she  must  adopt  a  different  course. 
"  I  have  no  bad  feeling  against  Rebecca,  and  as  to 
the  boy,  I  will  ask  my  husband  to  take  him  back 
into  the  store.  I  am  sure  he  will  do  it,  because  you 
Avish  it." 

"  I  don't  wish  it,"  answered  Mr.  Carter,  rather 
unexpectedly. 


193  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"Oh,  well,''  answered  Mrs.  Pitkin,  looking  re- 
lieved, "  that  is  as  you  say." 

"  I  have  other  views  for  Philip,"  said  Mr,  Carter. 
"  He  is  with  me  as  my  private  secretary." 

"  Is  he  living  with  you  ?"  asked  his  niece,  in  alarm. 

'Yes." 

j^'  There  was  no  need  of  taking  a  stranger.  Uncle 
Oliver.  We  should  be  glad  to  have  Alonzo  act  as 
your  secretary,  though  of  course  we  should  want 
him  to  stay  at  home." 

"I  shall  not  deprive  you  of  Alonzo,"  said  Mr. 
Carter,  with  a  tinge  of  sarcasm  in  his  tone.  "  Philip 
will  suit  me  better." 

Mr.  Carter  turned  and  resumed  his  packing. 

"  Are  you  quite  determined  to  leave  us  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Pitkin,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

"  Yes ;  it  will  be  better." 

"  But  you  will  come  back — say  after  a  few  weeks  ?" 

"  No,  I  think  not,"  he  answered  dryly. 

"  And  shall  we  not  see  you  at  all  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  shall  call  from  time  to  time,  and  besides, 
you  will  know  where  I  am,  and  can  call  whenever 
you  desire." 

"People  will  talk  about  your  leaving  us,"  com- 
plained Mrs.  Pitkin. 

"  Let  them  talk.  I  never  agreed  to  have  my 
movements  controlled  by  people's  gossip.  And  now, 
Lavinia,  I  shall  have  to  neglect  you  and  resume  my 
packing.  To-morrow  I  shall  bring  Philip  here  to 
help  me." 


AN  UNSATISFACTORY  CONFERENCE.  193 

"  "Would  you  like  to  have  Alonzo  help  you,  Uncle 
Oliver  ?" 

This  offer,  much  to  Alonzo's  relief,  was  declined. 
He  feared  that  he  should  be  examined  more  closely 
by  the  old  gentleman  about  the  missing  money, 
which  at  that  very  moment  he  had  in  his  pocket. 

Mrs.  Pitkin  went  down  stairs  feeling  angry  and 
baffled.  All  that  she  had  done  to  retain  her  ascend- 
ency over  Uncle  Ohver  had  failed,  and  Mrs.  Forbush 
and  Philip  seemed  to  have  superseded  herself  and 
Alonzo  in  his  regard.  She  conferred  with  Mr.  Pit- 
kin on  his  return  from  the  store,  but  the  more  they 
considered  the  matter  the  worse  it  looked  for  their 
prospects. 

Could  anything  be  d<Hie  t 


194  THE  ERRAND  BOT, 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

A   TEUCE. 

NO  MORE  distasteful  news  could  have  come  to 
tlie  Pitkms  tlian  to  learn  that  Philip  and  their 
poor  cousin  had  secured  a  firm  place  in  the  good 
graces  of  Uncle  Oliver.  Yet  they  did  not  dare  to 
show  their  resentment.  They  had  found  that  Uncle 
Oliver  had  a  will  of  his  own,  and  meant  to  exercise 
it.  Had  they  been  more  forbearing  he  would  still 
be  an  inmate  of  their  house  instead  of  going  over  to 
the  camp  of  their  enemies,  for  so  they  regarded  Mrs. 
Forbush  and  Phil. 

"  I  hate  that  woman,  Mr.  Pitkin  !"  said  his  wife 
fiercely.  "  I  scorn  such  underhanded  work.  How 
she  has  sneaked  into  the  good  graces  of  poor,  de- 
luded Uncle  OUver !" 

"You  have  played  your  cards  wrong,  Lavinia," 
said  her  husband  peevishly. 

"  I  ?  That  is  a  strange  accusation,  Mr.  Pitkin.  It 
was  you,  to  my  thinking.  You  sent  off  that  errand 
boy,  and  that  is  how  the  whole  thing  came  about.  If 
he  had  been  in  your  store  he  wouldn't  have  met 
Uncle  Oliver  down  at  the  pier. 

"You  and  Alonzo  persuaded  me  to  discharge 
bun." 


A  TRUCE.  195 

"  Oh,  of  course  it's  Alonzo  and  me !  When  you 
see  Rebecca  Forbush  and  that  errand  boy  making 
ducks  and  drakes  out  of  Uncle  Oliver's  money  you 
may  wish  you  had  acted  more  wisely." 

"Really,  Lavinia,  you  are  a  most  unreasonable 
woman.  It's  no  use  criminating  and  recriminating. 
We  must  do  what  we  can  to  mend  matters." 

'  What  can  we  do  ?" 

"They  haven't  got  the  money  yet — remember 
that !  We  must  try  to  re-establish  friendly  relations 
with  Mr.  Carter." 

"  Perhaps  you'U  teU  me  how  ?" 

"  Certainly !  CaU  as  soon  as  possible  at  the  house 
on  Madison  Avenue." 

"  Call  on  that  woman  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  try  to  smooth  matters  over  as  well  as 
you  can.  Take  Alonzo  with  you,  and  instruct  him 
to  be  polite  to  Philip." 

"  I  don't  believe  Lonny  will  be  willing  to  demean 
himself  so  far." 

"He'U  have  to,"  answered  Mr.  Pitkin  firmly. 
"  We've  aU  made  a  mistake,  and  the  sooner  we  remedy 
it  the  better. 

Mrs.  Pitkin  thought  it  over.  The  advice  was  un- 
palatable, but  it  was  evidently  sound.  Uncle  OUver 
was  rich,  and  they  must  not  let  his  money  slip 
through  their  fingers.  So,  after  duly  instructing 
Alonzo  m  his  part,  Mrs.  Pitkin,  a  day  or  two  later, 
ordered  her  carriage  and  drove  in  state  to  the  house 
of  her  once  poor  relative. 


196  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"Is  Mrs.  Forbush  at  home?"  slie  asked  of  the  ser- 
vant. 

"  I  believe  so,  madam,"  answered  a  dignified  man- 
servant, 

"  Take  this  card  to  her." 

Mrs.  Pitkin  and  Alonzo  were  ushered  into  a  draw- 
ing-room more  elegant  than  their  own.  She  sat  on 
a  sofa  with  Alonzo. 

"  Who  would  think  that  Rebecca  Forbush  would 
come  to  live  like  this  T  she  said,  half  to  herself. 

"  And  that  boy,"  supplemented  Alonzo. 

"  To  be  sure !     Your  uncle  is  fairly  infatuated." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Forbush  entered,  followed  by  her 
daughter.  She  was  no  longer  clad  in  a  shabby 
dress,  but  wore  an  elegant  toilet,  handsome  beyond 
her  own  wishes,  but  insisted  upon  by  Uncle  Ohver. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  Lavinia,"  she  said  simply. 

"  This  is  my  daughter." 

Julia,  too,  was  stylishly  dressed,  and  Alonzo,  in 
spite  of  his  prejudices,  could  not  help  regarding  this 
handsome  cousin  wivh  favor. 

I  do  not  propose  to  detail  the  interview.  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin was  on  her  good  behavior,  and  appeared  very 
gracious. 

Mrs.  Forbush  could  not  help  recalling  the  differ- 
ence between  her  demeanor  now  and  on  the  recent 
occasion,  when  in  her  shabby  dress  she  called  at  the 
house  in  Twelfth  Street,  but  she  was  too  generous 
to  recall  it. 


A  TRUCE,  19; 

As  they  were  about  to  leave,  Mr.  Carter  and  Philip 
entered  the  room,  sent  for  by  Mrs.  Forbush. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Philip  ?"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin,  gra- 
ciously.    "  Alonzo,  this  is  Philip." 

"  How  do  ?"  growled  Alonzo,  staring  enviously  at 
Phil's  handsome  new  suit,  which  was  considerably 
handsomer  than  his  own. 

"  Very  well,  Alonzo." 

"  You  must  come  and  see  Lonny,"  said  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin pleasantly. 

"  Thank  you !"  answered  Phil  politely. 

He  did  not  say  it  was  a  pleasure,  for  he  was  a  boy 
of  truth,  and  he  did  not  feel  that  it  would  be. 

Uncle  Oliver  was  partially  deceived  by  his  niece's 
new  manner.  He  was  glad  that  there  seemed  to  be 
a  reconciliation,  and  he  grew  more  cordial  than  he 
had  been  since  his  return. 

After  awhile  Mrs.  Pitkin  rose  to  go. 

When  she  was  fairly  in  the  carriage  once  more, 
she  said  passionately : 

"  How  I  hate  them !" 

"  You  were  awful  sweet  on  them,  ma  I"  said 
Alonzo,  opening  his  eyes. 

"I  had  to  be.  But  the  time  will  come  when  I 
will  open  the  eyes  of  Uncle  Oliver  to  the  designs  of 
that  scheming  woman  and  that  artful  errand  boy." 

It  was  Mrs.  Pitkin's  true  self  that  spoke. 


198  TEE  ERRAND  BOY, 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

&,  Phil's  trust. 

AMONG  the  duties  which  devolved  upon  Phii 
was  Mr.  Carter's  bank  business.  He  gener- 
ally made  deposits  for  Uncle  Oliver,  and  drew  money 
on  his  personal  checks  whenever  he  needed  it. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  Mr.  Carter  was  a 
silent  partner  in  the  firm  of  which  Mr.  Pitkin  was 
the  active  manager.  The  arrangement  between  the 
partners  was,  that  each  should  draw  out  two  hun- 
dred dollars  a  week  toward  current  expenses,  and 
that  the  surplus,  if  any,  at  the  end  of  the  year, 
should  be  divided  according  to  the  terms  of  the 
partnership. 

When  Phil  first  presented  himself  with  a  note 
from  Mr.  Carter,  he  was  an  object  of  attention  to 
the  clerks,  who  knew  that  he  had  been  discharged  by 
Mr.  Pitkin.  Yet  here  he  was,  dressed  in  a  new  suit, 
provided  with  a  watch,  and  wearing  every  mark  of 
prosperity.  One  of  the  most  surprised  was  Mr.  G. 
Washington  Wilbur,  with  whom,  as  an  old  friend, 
Phil  stopped  to  chat. 

"  Is  old  Pitkin  going  to  take  you  back  ?"  he  m- 
quired 


PEW 8  TRUST,  199 

"  No,"  answered  Phil  promptly.  "  He  couldn^t 
have  me  if  he  wanted  me." 

"  Have  yon  got  another  place  •" 

«  Yes." 

"  What's  the  firm  ?" 

"  It  isn't  in  business.  I  am  private  secretary  to 
Mr.  Carter." 

Mr.  Wilbur  regarded  him  with  surprise  and  re- 
spect. 

"  Is  it  a  soft  place  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  It's  a  very  pleasant  place." 

"  What  wages  do  you  get  ?" 

"  Twelve  dollars  a  week  and  board." 

"  You  don't  mean  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Say,  doesn't  he  want  another  secretary  ?"  asked 
Mr.  Wilbur. 

"  No,  I  think  not." 

"I'd  like  a  place  of  that  sort.  You're  a  lucky 
fellow,  Phil." 

"  I  begin  to  think  I  am." 

"  Of  course  you  don't  live  at  the  old  place." 

"  No ;  I  live  on  Madison  Avenue.  By  the  way, 
Wilbur,  how  is  your  lady-love  ?" 

Mr,  Wilbur  looked  radiant. 

"  I  think  I'm  getting  on,"  he  said.  "  I  met  her 
the  other  evening,  and  she  smiled." 

"That  is  encouraging,"  said  Phil,  as  soberly  as 
possible     "  AU  things  come   to  him   who   waits ! 


^0  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

That's  what  I    had    to    write    in    my   copy-book 
once." 

Phil  was  received  by  Mr.  Pitkin  with  more  gra- 
ciousness  than  he  expected.  He  felt  that  he  must  do 
what  he  could  to  placate  Uncle  Oliver,  but  he  was 
more  dangerous  when  friendly  in  his  manner  than 
when  he  was  rude  and  impolite.  He  was  even  now 
Jiilotting  to  get  Phil  into  a  scrape  which  should  lose 
hun  the  confidence  of  Uncle  Oliver. 

Generally  Phil  was  paid  in  a  check  payable  to  the 
order  of  Mr.  Carter.  But  one  Saturday  two  hun- 
dred dollars  in  bills  were  placed  in  his  hands  in- 
stead. 

"  You  see  how  much  confidence  I  place  in  your 
honesty,"  said  Mr.  Pitkin.  "  You  couldn't  use  the 
check.    This  money  you  could  make  off  with." 

"  It  would  be  very  foohsh,  to  say  the  least,"  re- 
sponded Phil. 

"  Of  course,  of  course.  I  know  you  are  trust- 
worthy, or  I  would  have  given  you  a  check  instead." 

"When  Phil  left  the  building  he  was  followed, 
though  he  did  not  know  it,  by  a  man  looking  Uke  a 
clerk. 

Ah,  Phil,  you  are  in  danger,  though  you  don't 
suspect  it. 


PHIL  IS  SHADOWED,  201 


CHAPTER  XXXL 

PHIL  IS  SHADOWED. 

PHIL  felt  that  lie  must  be  more  than  usually 
careful,  because  the  money  he  had  received  was 
in  the  form  of  bills,  which,  unhke  the  check,  would 
be  of  use  to  any  thief  appropriating  it.  That  he 
was  in  any  unusual  danger,  however,  he  was  far  from 
suspecting. 

He  reached  Broadway,  and  instead  of  taking  an 
omnibus,  started  to  walk  up-town.  He  knew  there 
was  no  haste,  and  a  walk  up  the  great  busy  thor- 
oughfare had  its  attractions  for  him,  as  it  has  for 
many  others. 

Behind  him,  preserving  a  distance  of  from  fifteen 
to  twenty  feet,  walked  a  dark-complexioned  man  of 
not  far  from  forty  years  of  age.  Of  course  Phii 
was  not  likely  to  notice  him. 

"Whatever  the  man's  designs  might  be,  he  satis- 
fied himself  at  first  with  simply  keeping  our  hero  in 
view.  But  as  they  both  reached  Bleecker  Street,  he 
suddenly  increased  his  pace  and  caught  up  Avith 
Phil.  He  touched  the  boy  on  the  shoulder,  breath' 
ing  quickly,  as  if  he  had  been  running. 

Phil  t"»"ned  quickly. 


202  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"Do  you  want  me,  sir?"  he  asked,  eying  the 
stranger  in  surprise. 

"I  don't  know.  Perhaps  I  am  mistaken.  Are 
you  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Oliver  Carter  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Ah !  then  you  are  the  boy  I  want.  I  have  bad 
news  for  you." 

"  Bad  news !"  repeated  Phil,  alarmed.  "  "What  is 
it?" 

"  Mr.  Carter  was  seized  with  a  fit  in  the  street 
haK  an  hour  since." 

"  Is  he — dead  ?"  asked  Phil,  in  dismay. 

"  Ko,  no !     I  think  he  will  come  out  all  right." 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  In  my  house,  I  didn't  of  course  know  who  he 
was,  but  I  found  in  his  pocket  a  letter  directed  to 
Oliver  Carter,  Madison  Avenue.  There  was  also  a 
business  card.  He  is  connected  in  business  with  Mr. 
Pitkin,  is  he  not?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil ;  "  where  is  your  house  ?" 

"  In  Bleecker  Street,  near  by.  Mr.  Carter  is  lying 
on  the  bed.  He  is  unconscious,  but  my  wife  heard 
him  say :     '  Call  Philip.'     I  suppose  that  is  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  my  name  is  Philip." 

"  I  went  around  to  his  place  of  business,  and  was 
told  that  you  had  just  left  there.  I  was  given  a 
description  of  you  and  hurried  to  find  you.  "WiU 
you  come  to  the  house  and  see  Mr.  Carter  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  Phil,  forgetting  everything 


PHIL  IS  SHADOWED.  g03 

except  tiiat  tis  kind  and  generous  employer  was 
sick,  perhaps  dangerously. 

"  Thank  you ;  I  shall  feel  relieved.  Of  course  you 
can  communicate  with  his  friends  and  arrange  to 
have  him  carried  home." 

"  Tes,  sir ;  I  live  at  his  house." 

"  That  is  well." 

They  had  turned  down  Bleecker  Street,  when  it 
occurred  to  Phil  to  say  : 

"  I  don't  understand  how  Mr.  Carter  should  be  in 
this  neighborhood." 

"That  is  something  I  can't  explain,  as  I  know 
nothing  about  his  affairs,"  said  the  stranger  pleas- 
antly. "Perhaps  he  may  have  property  on  the 
street." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  attend  to  much  of  his  busi- 
ness, and  he  would  have  sent  me  if  there  had  been 
anything  of  that  kind  to  attend  to." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  his  companion. 
"  Of  course  I  know  nothing  about  it.  I  only  formed 
a  conjecture." 

"Has  a  physician  been  sent  for?"  asked  Phil. 
"  Do  you  know  of  any  we  can  caU  in  ?" 

"  My  wife  agreed  to  send  for  one  on  Sixth  Ave- 
nue," said  the  stranger.  "  I  didn't  wait  for  him  to 
come,  but  set  out  for  the  store." 

Nothing  could  be  more  ready  or  plausible  than 
the  answers  of  his  new  acquaintance,  and  Phil  was 
by  no  means  of  a  suspicious  temperament.    Had  he 


204  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

lived  longer  in  the  city  it  might  have  occurred  to 
him  that  there  was  something  rather  unusual  in  the 
circumstances,  but  he  knew  that  Mr.  Carter  had 
spoken  of  leaving  the  house  at  the  breakfast-table, 
indeed  had  left  it  before  he  himself  had  set  out  for 
the  store.  For  the  time  being  the  thought  of  the 
sum  of  money  which  he  carried  with  him  had  es- 
caped his  memory,  but  it  was  destined  very  soon  to 
be  recalled  to  his  mind. 

They  had  nearly  reached  Sixth  Avenue,  when  his 
guide  stopped  in  front  of  a  shabby  brick  house. 
"  This  is  where  I  live,"  he  said.  "  We  wiU  go  in." 
He  produced  a  key,  opened  the  door,  and  Phil  ac- 
companied him  up  a  shabby  staircase  to  the  third 
floor.  He  opened  the  door  of  a  rear  room,  and 
made  a  sign  to  Vh.il  to  enter. 


PHIL  IS  ROBBED.  205 


CHAPTER  XXXn. 

PHIL   IS   EOBBED. 

WHEK  he  was  fairly  in  the  room  Phil  looked 
about  him  expecting  to  see  Mr.  Carter,  but 
the  room  appeared  unoccupied.  He  turned  to  his 
companion,  a  look  of  surprise  on  his  face,  but  he  was 
destined  to  be  still  more  surprised,  and  that  not  in  a 
pleasant  way.  His  guide  had  locked  the  door  from 
the  inside  and  put  the  key  in  his  pocket. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?"  asked  Phil,  with  sudden 
apprehension. 

"  What  do  you  refer  to  ?"  asked  his  guide  with  an 
unpleasant  smile. 

"  Why  do  you  lock  the  door  ?" 

"  I  thought  it  might  be  safest,"  was  the  significant 
answer. 

"  I  don't  beheve  Mr.  Carter  is  in  the  house  at  aU," 
said  Phil  quickly. 

"  I  don't  believe  he  is  either,  youngster." 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  he  was  here  ?"  demanded 
Phil,  with  rising  indignation. 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't  come  if  I  didn't,"  re- 
plied his  companion  nonchalantly. 

"  Answer  me  one  thing,  is  Mr.  Carter  sick  at  all  ?" 


206  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

"  Not  that  I  know  of." 

"  Then  I  am  trapped  !" 

"  Precisely.  Tou  may  as  well  know  the  truth 
now." 

Phil  had  already  conjectured  the  reason  why  he 
had  been  enticed  to  this  poor  dwelling.  The  two 
hi^udred  dollars  which  he  had  in  his  pocket  made 
him  feel  very  uncomfortable.  I  think  I  may  say 
truly  that  if  the  money  had  been  his  own  he  would 
have  been  less  disturbed.  But  he  thought,  with  a 
sinking  heart,  that  if  the  money  should  be  taken 
from  him,  he  would  himself  fall  under  suspicion, 
and  he  could  not  bear  to  have  Mr.  Carter  think  that 
he  had  repaid  his  kindness  with  such  black  ingrati- 
tude. He  might  be  mistaken.  The  man  before  him 
might  not  Imow  he  had  such  a  sum  of  money  in  his 
possession,  and  of  course  he  was  not  going  to  give 
him  the  information. 

"  I  am  glad  Mr,  Carter  is  all  right,"  said  Phil. 
"  Kow  tell  me  why  you  have  taken  such  pains  to  get 
me  here  ?" 

"  "Why,  as  to  that,"  said  his  companion,  "  there 
were  at  least  two  hundred  good  reasons," 

Phil  turned  pale,  for  he  understood  now  that  in 
some  way  his  secret  was  known. 

"  "What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked,  not  wholly  able 
to  conceal  his  perturbed  feelings. 

"  You  know  well  enough,  boy,"  said  the  other  sig- 
nificantly. "  You've  got  two  hundred  dollars  in  your 
pocket.     I  want  it." 


PHIL  IS  ROBBED.  207 

"  Are  you  a  thief,  then  ?"  said  Phil,  with  perhaps 
imprudent  boldness. 

"  Just  take  care  what  you  say.  I  won't  be  in- 
sulted by  such  a  whipper-snapper  as  you.  You'd 
better  not  call  names.     Hand  over  that  money !" 

"  How  do  you  know  I  have  any  money  ?"  Phil 
asked,  trying  to  gain  a  little  time  for  deliberation. 

"  No  matter.     Hand  it  over,  I  say  !" 

"  Don't  take  it !"  said  Phil,  agitated.  "  It  isn't 
mine !" 

"  Then  you  needn't  mind  giving  it  up." 

"  It  belongs  to  Mr.  Carter." 

"  He  has  plenty  more." 

"  But  he  wiU  think  I  took  it.  He  will  think  I  am 
dishonest." 

"  That  is  nothing  to  me" 

"Let  me  go,"  pleaded  Phil,  "and  I  will  never 
breathe  a  word  about  your  wanting  to  rob  me.  You 
know  you  might  get  into  trouble  for  it." 

"  That's  all  bosh !  The  money,  I  say !"  said  the 
man  sternl}^ 

"  I  won't  give  it  to  you !"  said  Phil  boldly. 

"  You  won't,  hey  ?  Then  I  shaU  have  to  take  it. 
If  I  hurt  you,  you  will  have  yourself  to  blame." 

So  saying  the  man  seized  Phil,  and  then  a  struggle 
ensued,  the  boy  defending  himself  as  well  as  he 
could.  He  made  a  stouter  resistance  than  the  thief 
anticipated,  and  the  latter  became  irritated  with  the 
amount  of  trouble  he  had  to  take  it.     I  should  be 


308  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

glad  to  report  that  Phil  made  a  successful  defense, 
but  this  was  hardly  to  be  expected.  He  was  a 
strong  boy,  but  he  had  to  cope  with  a  strong  man, 
and  though  rignt  was  on  his  side,  virtue  in  his  case 
had  to  succumb  to  triumphant  vice. 

Phil  was  thrown  down,  and  when  prostrate,  with 
the  man's  knee  on  his  breast,  the  latter  succeeded  in 
stripping  him  of  the  money  he  had  so  bravely  de- 
fended. 

"  There,  you  young  rascal !"  he  said,  as  he  rose  to 
his  feet ;  "  you  see  how  much  good  you  have  done. 
You  might  as  well  have  given  up  the  money  in  the 
first  place." 

"  It  was  my  duty  to  keep  it  from  you,  if  I  could," 
said  Phil,  panting  with  his  exertions. 

"  Well,  if  that's  any  satisfaction  to  you,  you're 
welcome  to  it." 

He  went  to  the  door  and  unlocked  it, 

"  May  I  go  now  ?"  asked  Phil. 

"  Not  much.     Sta}''  where  you  are !" 

A  moment  later  and  PhO.  found  himself  alone  and 
a  prisoner. 


Pbil  js  seized,  thrown  down  and  robbed  of  bis  money. 


310  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

A      TERRIBLE      SITUATION. 

PHIL  tried  the  door,  but  now  it  was  locked  on 
the  outside,  and  he  found  that  he  was  securely 
trapped.  He  went  to  the  window,  but  here,  too, 
there  was  no  chance  of  escape.  Even  if  he  had  been 
able  to  get  safely  out,  he  would  have  landed  in  a 
back-yard  from  which  there  was  no  egress  except 
through  the  house,  which  was  occupied  by  his 
enemies. 

'•  What  shall  I  do  ?"  Phil  asked  himself,  despair- 
ingly. "  Mr.  Carter  will  be  anxious  about  me,  and 
perhaps  he  may  think  I  have  gone  oflf  with  the 
money !" 

This  to  Phil  was  the  worst  of  his  troubles.  He 
prized  a  good  reputation  and  the  possession  of  an 
honorable  name,  and  to  be  thought  a  thief  would  dis- 
tress him  exceedingly. 

"  "What  a  fool  I  was  to  walk  into  such  a  trap !"  he 
said  to  himself.  "  I  might  have  known  Mr.  Carter 
would  not  be  in  such  a  neighborhood." 

Phil  was  too  severe  upon  himself.  I  suspect  that 
most  of  my  boy  readers,  even  those  who  account 
themselves  sharp,   might    have    been  deceived  as 


A  TERRIBLE  SITUATION.  211 

easily.  The  fact  is,  rogues  are  usually  plausible, 
and  they  are  so  trained  in  deception  that  it  is  no 
reflection  upon  their  victims  that  they  allow  them- 
selves to  be  taken  in. 

Hours  passed,  and  still  Phil  found  himself  a  pris- 
oner. Each  moment  he  became  more  anxious  and 
troubled. 

"  How  long  will  they  keep  me  ?"  he  asked  him- 
self.    "  They  can't  keep  me  here  forever." 

About  six  o'clock  the  door  was  opened  slightly, 
and  a  plate  of  bread  and  butter  was  thrust  in,  to- 
gether with  a  glass  of  cold  water.  Who  brought  it 
up  Phil  did  not  know,  for  the  person  did  not  show 
himself  or  herself. 

Phil  ate  and  drank  what  was  provided,  not  that 
he  was  particularly  hungry,  but  he  felt  that  he  must 
keep  up  his  strength. 

"  They  don't  mean  to  starve  me,  at  any  rate,"  he 
reflected.  "'  That  is  some  consolation.  While  there 
is  life,  there  is  hope." 

A  little  over  an  hour  passed.  It  became  dark  in 
Phil's  prison,  but  he  had  no  means  of  lighting  the 
gas.  There  was  a  small  bed  in  the  room,  and  he 
made  up  his  mind  that  he  must  sleep  there. 

All  at  once  there  was  a  confused  noise  and  dis- 
turbance. He  could  not  make  out  what  it  meant, 
till  above  all  other  sounds  he  heard  the  terrible  cry 
of  "  Fire !" 

"  Fire !     Where  is  it  ?"  thought  Phil. 


213  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

It  was  not  long  before  he  made  a  terrible  dis- 
covery. It  was  the  very  house  in  which  he  was 
confined !  There  was  a  trampling  of  feet  and  a 
chorus  of  screams.  The  smoke  penetrated  mto  the 
room. 

"  Heavens !  Am  I  to  be  burned  alive  !"  thought 
our  poor  hero. 

He  jumped  up  and  down  on  the  floor,  pounded 
frantically  on  the  door,  and  at  last  the  door  was 
broken  open  by  a  stalwart  fireman,  and  Phil  made 
his  way  out,  half-suffocated. 

Once  in  the  street,  he  made  his  way  as  fast  as 
possible  homeward. 


PHW8  FRIENDS  AND  HIS  ENEMIES.         213 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

Phil's  friends  and  his  enemies. 

MEANWHILE,  Phil's  long  absence  had  excited 
anxiety  and  alarm. 

"  What  can  have  become  of  Philip  ?"  said  Mr. 
Carter  when  supper  time  came  and  he  did  not  ar- 
rive. 

"  I  can't  think,"  answered  Mrs.  Forbush.  "  He  is 
generally  very  prompt." 

"That  is  what  makes  me  feel  anxious.  I  am 
afraid  something  must  have  happened  to  him." 

"  Did  you  send  him  anywhere,  Uncle  Oliver  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  caUed,  as  usmal,  to  get  my  check  from 
Mr.  Pitkin." 

"  And  he  ought  to  have  been  here  earlier  ?" 

"  Certainly.     He  wouldn't  have  to  wait  for  that." 

"  Philip  is  very  careful.  I  can't  think  that  he  has 
met  with  an  accident." 

"Even  the  most  prudent  and  careful  get  into 
trouble  sometimes." 

They  were  finally  obliged  to  sit  down  to  supper 
alone.  None  of  the  three  enjoyed  it.  Not  only  Mr. 
Carter  and  Mrs.  Forbush,  but  Julia  was  anxious  and 
troubled. 


214  TEE  ERRAND  EOT. 

"  I  didn't  know  I  cared  so  much  for  the  boy,"  said 
Uncle  Oliver.  "  He  has  endeared  himself  to  me.  I 
care  nothing  for  the  loss  of  the  money  if  he  will 
only  return  safe." 

It  was  about  a  quarter  of  eight  when  the  door-bell 
rang,  and  the  servant  ushered  in  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin and  Alonzo. 

After  the  usual  greetings  were  interchanged,  Mrs. 
Pitkin  said,  looking  about  her : 

"Where  is  Philip?" 

"  We  are  very  much  concerned  about  him,"  said 
Mr.  Carter,  his  face  showing  his  trouble.  "  He  has 
iiot  been  home  since  morning.  Did  he  call  at  your 
store,  Pitkin?" 

"  Hasn't  he  been  home  since  ?"  asked  Pitkin,  in  a 
tone  unpleasantly  significant. 

"  No.     At  what  time  did  he  leave  the  store  ?" 

"  Hours  since.  I — I  am  not  sure  but  I  may  be  able 
to  throw  some  light  on  his  failure  to  return." 

"  Do  so,  if  you  can !"  said  Uncle  Oliver. 

"  In  place  of  giving  him  a  check,  I  gave  the  boy 
two  hundred  dollars  in  biUs." 

"  Well  ?" 

"  Don't  you  see  ?  The  temptation  has  proved  too 
strong  for  him.  I  think.  Uncle  Oliver,  you  won't 
see  him  back  in  a  hurry." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  the  boy  would  steal  ?"  de- 
manded the  old  gentleman  indignantly. 

"  I  think  it  more  than  likely  that  he  has  appro- 
priated the  money." 


PEWS  FRIENDS  AND  HIS  ENEMIES.  315 

"  I  am  sure  lie  has  not,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush. 

*'  And  so  am  I,"  chimed  in  Julia. 

Mr.  Pitkin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  So  you  think,"  he  answered ;  "  but  I  don't  agree 
with  jou." 

"  Nor  I !"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin,  nodding  her  head  vig- 
orously. "  I  never  had  any  confidence  in  the  boy. 
I  don't  mind  telling  you  now  that  I  have  warned 
Alonzo  not  to  get  too  intimate  with  him.  You  re- 
member it,  Lonny  ?" 

"  Tes'm,"  responded  Lonny. 

"  Then  you  think  the  boy  capable  of  appropriatinc^j 
the  money  ?"  asked  Mr.  Carter  quietly. 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"Well,  I  don't!"  said  Uncle  Oliver  emphatically. 

"  You  are  very  easily  deceived,"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin. 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  returned  Mr.  Carter, 
with  a  significant  glance,  that  made  his  niece  feel 
uncomfortable. 

"  I  suspect  you  will  have  to  admit  it,"  said  Mr, 
Pitkin.  "  If,  contrary  to  my  anticipation,  the  boy 
returns,  and  brings  the  money  with  him,  I  wiU  own 
myself  mistaken." 

Just  then  the  front  door  was  heard  to  open ;  there 
was  a  sound  of  steps  in  the  hall,  and  Phil  came 
hurriedly  into  the  room. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pitkin  exchanged  looks  of  surprise 
and  dismay ;  but  Mrs.  Forbush,  her  daughter  and 
Uacle  Oliver  looked  delighted. 


21Q  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 

THE    PITKIN8   KETIRE    IN    DISGUST. 

WHERE  have  you  been,  Philip?"  asked  Mr. 
Carter,  breaking  the  silence.  "  We  wer© 
getting  anxious  about  you." 

"I  have  bad  news  for  you,  sir,"  returned  Phil, 
saying  what  stood  first  in  his  mind.  "  I  have  lost 
the  two  hundred  dollars  Mr.  Pitkin  paid  me  this 
morning." 

"  So  you  lost  it  ?"  observed  Mr.  Pitkin  with  a 
sneer,  emphasizing  the  word  "  lost "  to  show  his  in- 
credulity. 

"Yes,  sir,  I  lost  it,"  answered  PhU,  looking  him 
fearlessly  in  the  eye ;  "  or,  rather,  it  was  stolen  from 
me." 

"  Oh !  now  it  is  stolen,  is  it  ?"  repeated  Pitkin. 
"  Really,  Uncle  Oliver,  this  is  getting  interesting." 

"I  believe  I  am  the  proper  person  to  question 
Philip,"  said  Mr.  Carter  coldly.  '*  It  was  my 
money,  I  take  it." 

"  Yes,  it  was  yours.  As  I  made  the  payment,  I 
cannot,  of  course,  be  responsible  for  its  not  reaching 
you.  You  will  pardon  my  saying  that  it  would  have 
been  wiser  to  employ  a  different  messenger." 


THE  PITKIN S  RETIRE  IN  DISG  UST.  217 

"Why?"  demanded  Uncle  Oliver,  looking  dis- 
pleased. 

"Why,  really,  Uncle  Oliver,"  said  Mr.  Pitkin,  "  I 
should  think  the  result  might  convince  you  of  that." 

"  We  had  better  let  Philip  tell  his  story,"  said  Mr. 
Carter  quietly.     "  How  did  it  happen,  Philip  ?" 

Thereupon  Philip  told  the  story  already  familiar 
to  the  reader. 

"  Upon  my  word,  quite  a  romantic  story !"  com- 
mented Mr.  Pitkin,  unable  to  repress  a  sneer.  "  So 
you  were  tracked  by  a  rascal,  lured  into  a  den  of 
thieves,  robbed  of  your  money,  or,  rather,  Mr.  Car- 
ter's, and  only  released  by  the  house  catching  fire  ?" 

"  That  is  exactly  what  happened  to  me,  sir,"  said 
Philip,  coloring  with  indignation,  for  he  saw  that 
Mr.  Pitkin  was  doing  his  best  to  di^icrediL  him. 

"  It  quite  does  credit  to  your  imagination.  By 
the  way,  boy,  have  you  been  in  the  habit  of  reading 
dime  novels  ?" 

"  I  never  read  one  in  my  life,  sir." 

"  Then  I  think  you  would  succeed  in  writing 
them.  For  a  boy  of  sixteen,  you  certainly  have  a 
vivid  imagination." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  my  husband,"  said  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin. "  The  boy's  story  is  ridiculously  improbable. 
I  can't  understand  how  he  has  the  face  to  stand 
there  and  expect  Uncle  Oliver  to  swallow  such 
rubbish." 

"  I  don't  expect  you  to  believe  it,  either  of  you," 


218  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

said  Philip  manfully,  "  for  you  have  never  treated 
me  fairly." 

"  I  think  you  will  find,  also,  that  my  uncle  is  too 
sensible  a  man  to  credit  it,  also,"  retorted  Mrs.  Pit- 
kin. 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  Lavinia,"  said  Mr.  Carter, 
who  had  waited  intentionally  to  let  his  relatives  ex- 
press themselves.  "  I  beheve  every  word  of  Philip's 
story." 

"You  do?"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Pitkin,  roUing  her 
eyes  and  nodding  her  head,  in  the  vain  endeavor  to 
express  her  feelings.  "  Peally,  Uncle  Oliver,  for  a 
man  of  your  age  and  good  sense " 

"Thank  you  for  that  admission,  Lavinia,"  said 
Mr.  Carter  mockingly.     "  Go  on." 

"  I  was  about  to  say  that  jou  seem  infatuated 
with  this  boy,  of  whom  we  know  nothing,  except 
from  his  own  account.  To  my  mind  his  story  is  a 
most  ridiculous  invention." 

"  Mr.  Pitkin,  did  any  one  enter  your  store  just 
after  Philip  left  it  to  inquire  after  him  ?" 

"!N"o,  sir,"  answered  Pitkin  triumphantly.  "That's 
a  lie,  at  any  rate." 

"  You  will  remember  that  Philip  did  not  make  the 
assertion  himself.  This  was  the  statement  of  the 
thief  who  robbed  him." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  sneered  Pitkin.  "  He  told  his 
story  very  shrewdly." 

"Mr.  Carter,"  said  Philip,  "  I  can  show  you  or  any 


TEE  PITKINS  RETIRE  IN  DISG  UST.  219 

one  else  the  house  in  which  I  was  confined  in 
Bleecker  Street,  and  there  will  be  no  trouble  in 
obtaining  proof  of  the  fire." 

"  I  dare  say  there  may  have  been  such  a  fire," 
said  Mr.  Pitkin,  "  and  you  may  have  happened  to 
see  it,  and  decided  to  weave  it  into  your  story." 

"  Do  you  think  I  stole  the  money  or  used  it  f of 
my  own  purpose  V  asked  Philip  pointedly. 

Mr.  Pitkin  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  "  upon  this  point  I  can 
only  say  that  your  story  is  grossly  improbable.  It 
won't  hold  water." 

'•  Permit  me  to  judge  of  that,  Mr.  Pitkin,"  said 
Mr.  Carter.     "  I  wish  to  ask  you  one  question." 

"  To  ask  Tne  a  question  I"  said  Pitkin,  surprised. 

"Yes;  why  did  you  pa}^  Philip  in  bills  to-day? 
Why  didn't  you  give  him  a  check,  as  usual  ?" 

"  Why,''  answered  Pitkin,  hesitating,  "  I  thought 
it  wouldn't  make  any  diJfference  to  you.  I  thought 
you  would  be  able  to  use  it  more  readily." 

"  Did  you  suppose  I  would  specially  need  to  use 
money  instead  of  a  check  this  week  ?  Why  break 
over  your  usual  custom  ?" 

"  Really,  I  didn't  give  much  thought  to  the  mat- 
ter," answered  Pitkin,  hesitating.  "  I  acted  on  a 
sudden  impulse." 

"  Your  impulse  has  cost  me  two  hundred  dollars. 
Do  me  the  favor,  when  Philip  calls  next  week,  to 
hand  him  a  check." 


220  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  You  mean  to  retain  him  in  your  employ  after 
this  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Pitkin  sharply. 

"  Yes,  I  do.     Why  shouldn't  I  ?" 

"  You  are  very  trustful,"  observed  the  lady,  toss- 
ing her  head.  "  If  this  had  happened  to  Lonny 
here,  we  should  never  have  heard  the  last  of  it." 

"  Perhaps  not !"  responded  the  old  gentleman 
dryly.  "  When  a  young  gentleman  is  trusted  vsdth 
a  letter  to  mail  containing  money,  and  that  letter 
never  reaches  its  destination,  it  may  at  least  be  in- 
ferred that  he  is  careless." 

It  will  be  remember  that  this  was  the  first  knowl- 
edge Mrs.  Pitkin  or  her  husband  had  of  the  transac- 
tion referred  to. 

"What  do  you  mean.  Uncle  Oliver?"  demanded 
Mr  Pitkin. 

Mr.  Carter  explained. 

"  This  is  too  much !"  said  Mrs.  Pitkin  angrily. 
"  You  mean  to  accuse  my  poor  boy  of  opening  the 
letter  and  stealing  the  money  ?" 

"  If  I  was  as  ready  to  bring  accusations  as  you, 
Lavinia,  I  should  undoubtedly  say  that  it  looked  a 
little  suspicious,  but  I  prefer  to  let  the  matter  rest." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Pitkin,  we  had  better  go,"  said  Mrs. 
Pitkin,  rising  with  dignity.  "  Since  Uncle  Oliver 
chooses  to  charge  his  own  nephew  with  being  a 
thief " 

"  I  beg  pardon,  Lavinia,  I  have  not  done  so." 

"  You  might  just  as  weU,"  said  Lavinia  Pitkin, 


THE  PITKINS  RETIRE  IN  DI80  UST.  221 

tossing  her  head.  "  Come,  Mr.  Pitkin ;  come,  my 
poor  Lonny,  we  will  go  home.  This  is  no  place  for 
you." 

"  Good-evening,  Lavinia,"  said  Mr.  Carter  calmly. 
'•  T  shall  be  glad  to  see  you  whenever  you  feel  like 
calling." 

"  When  you  have  discharged  that  boy,  I  may  call 
again,"'  said  Mrs.  Pitkin  spitefully, 

"  You  will  have  to  wait  some  time,  then.  I  am 
quite  capable  of  managing  my  own  affairs." 

When  Mr.  Pitkin  had  left  the  house,  by  no  means 
in  a  good  humor,  Phil  turned  to  his  employer  and 
said  gratefully : 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,  Mr.  Carter,  for 
your  Idnd  confidence  in  me.  I  admit  that  the  story 
I  told  you  J3  a  strange  one,  and  I  could  not  have 
blamed  you  for  doubting  me." 

"  But  I  don't  doubt  you,  my  dear  Philip,"  said  Mr. 
Carter  kindly. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Mrs.  Forbush.  "  I  feel  provoked 
with  Lavinia  and  her  husband  for  trying  to  throw 
discredit  upon  your  statement." 

"  In  fact,"  said  Mr.  Carter  humorously,  "  the  only 
one  of  us  that  suspected  you  was  Julia." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Oliver !"  exclaimed  Julia,  in  dismay. 
"  I  never  dreamed  of  doubting  Phil." 

"Then,"  said  Mr.  Carter,  "it  appears  that  you 
have  three  friends,  at  least." 

"  If,"  said  Phil,  "  you  would  allow  me  to  make  up 


322  TEE  ERRAND  BOT. 

part  of  the  loss,  by  surrendering  a  part  of  my 
salary " 

"Couldn't  be  thought  of,  Philip!"  said  Uncle 
Oliver  resolutely.  "  I  don't  care  for  the  money,  but 
I  should  like  to  know  how  the  thief  happened  to 
know  that  to-day  you  received  money  instead  of  a 
check." 

Without  saying  a  word  to  Phil,  Uncle  Oliver  called 
the  next  day  on  a  noted  detective  and  set  him  to 
work  ferreting  out  the  secret. 


TME  FALSE  asm.  z^^ 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE   FALSE   HEIB. 

IN  THE  Buburbs  of  Chicago,  perhaps  a  dozen 
miles  from  the  great  city,  stands  a  fine  country 
house,  in  the  midst  of  a  fine  natural  park.  From  the 
cupola  which  surmounts  the  roof  can  be  seen  in  the 
distance  the  waters  of  Lake  Michigan,  stretching 
for  many  miles  from  north  to  south  and  from  east  to 
west,  like  a  vast  inland  sea. 

The  level  lawns,  the  greenhouses,  the  garden 
with  rare  plants  and  flowers,  show  clearly  that  this 
is  the  abode  of  a  rich  man.  My  readers  will  be 
specially  interested  to  know  that  this  is  the  luxurious 
and  stately  home  of  Mr.  Granville,  whose  son's  for- 
tunes we  have  been  following. 

This,  too,  is  the  home  of  Mrs.  Brent  and  Jonas, 
who,  under  false  representations,  have  gained  a  foot- 
hold in  the  home  of  the  Western  millionaire. 

Surely  it  is  a  great  change  for  one  brought  up  like 
Jonas  to  be  the  recognized  heir  and  supposed  son  of 
so  rich  a  man !  It  is  a  change,  too,  for  his  mother, 
who,  though  she  dare  not  avow  the  relationship,  is 
permitted  to  share  the  luxury  of  her  son.  Mrs. 
Brent  has  for  her  own  use  two  of  the  best  rooms  ia 


224  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

the  mansion,*  and  so  far  as  money  can  bring  hap 
piness,  she  has  every  right  to  consider  herself 
happy. 

Is  she? 

Not  as  happy  as  she  anticipated.  To  begin  with, 
she  is  always  dreading  that  some  untoward  circum- 
stance will  reveal  the  imposition  she  has  practiced 
upon  Mr.  GranviUe.  In  that  case  what  can  she  ex 
pect  but  to  be  ejected  in  disgrace  from  her  luxurious 
home?  To  be  sure,  she  will  have  her  husband\« 
property  left,  but  it  would  be  a  sad  downfall  and 
descent  in  the  social  scale. 

Besides,  she  finds  cause  for  anxiety  in  Jonas,  and 
the  change  which  his  sudden  and  undeserved  eleva- 
tion has  wrought  in  him.  It  requires  a  strong  mind 
to  withstand  the  allurements  and  temptations  of 
prosperity,  and  Jonas  is  far  from  possessing  a  strong 
mind.  He  is,  indeed,  if  I  may  be  allowed  the  ex- 
pression, a  vulgar  little  snob,  utterly  selfish,  and  in- 
tent solely  upon  his  own  gratification.  He  has  a 
love  for  drink,  and  against  the  protests  of  his 
mother  and  the  positive  command  of  Mr.  Granville, 
indulges  his  taste  whenever  he  thinks  he  can  do  so 
without  fear  of  detection.  To  the  servants  he 
makes  jiimself  very  offensive  by  assuming  conse- 
quentiai  airs  and  a  lordly  bearing,  which  excites 
their  hearty  dislike. 

He  is  making  his  way  across  the  lawn  at  this 
moment.    He  is  dressed  in  clothes  of  the  finest 


TEE  FALSE  HEIR.  225 

material  and  the  most  fashionable  cut.  A  thick  gold 
chain  is  displayed  across  his  waistcoat,  attached  to 
an  expensive  gold  watch,  bought  for  him  by  his 
supposed  father.  He  carries  in  his  hand  a  natty 
cane,  and  struts  along  with  head  aloft  and  nose  in 
the  air. 

Two  under-gardeners  are  at  work  upon  a  flower- 
bed as  he  passes. 

"  What  time  is  it,  Master  Philip  ?"  says  one,  a  boy 
about  a  year  older  than  Jonas. 

'•  My  good  boy,"  said  Jonas  haughtily,  "  I  don't 
carry  a  watch  for  your  benefit." 

The  gardener  bit  his  lip,  and  surveyed  the  heir 
with  unequivocal  disgust. 

"  Yery  well,"  he  retorted ;  "  I'll  wait  till  a  gentle- 
man comes  this  way." 

A  flush  of  anger  was  visible  on  the  cheek  of  Jonas 
despite  his  freckles. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I'm  not  a  gentleman !"  he 
demanded  angrily. 

"  You  don't  act  like  one,"  returned  Dan. 

"  You'd  better  not  be  impertinent  to  me !"  ex- 
claimed Jonas,  his  small  gray  eyes  flashing  with  in- 
dignation.    "  Take  that  back !" 

"  I  won't,  for  it's  true  !"  said  Dan  undauntedly. 

«Take  that,  then!" 

Jonas  raised  his  cane  and  brought  it  down 
smartly  on  the  young  gardener's  shoulder. 

He  soon  learned  that  he  had  acted  imprudently. 


236  THE  EBB  AND  EOT. 

Dan  dropped  his  rake,  sprang  forward,  and  seizing 
the  cane,  wrenched  it  from  the  hands  of  the  young 
heir,  after  which  he  proceeded  to  break  it  across  his 
knee. 

"  There's  your  cane !"  he  said  contemptuously,  as 
he  threw  the  pieces  on  the  ground. 

jj^'  What  did  you  do  that  for  ?"  demanded  Jonas, 
oiitraged. 

"  Because  you  insulted  me.    That's  why." 

"  How  can  I  insult  you  ?  You're  only  a  poor 
working  boy !" 

"  I  wouldn't  change  places  with  you,"  said  Dan. 
'•  I'd  like  weU  enough  to  be  rich,  but  I  wouldn't  be 
wiUing  to  be  as  mean  as  you  are." 

"  You'll  suffer  for  this !"  said  Jonas,  his  little  bead- 
like eyes  glowing  with  anger.  "  I'U  have  you  turned 
off  this  very  day,  or  as  soon  as  my  father  get's 
home." 

"  If  he  says  I'm  to  go,  I'll  go !"  said  Dan.  '•  He's 
a  gentleman." 

Jonas  made  his  way  to  his  mother's  room.  She 
noticed  his  perturbed  look. 

"  "What's  the  matter,  my  dear  boy  ?"  she  asked. 
"  What's  the  matter,  Jonas  ?" 

"  I  wish  you'd  stop  calling  me  your  dear  boy,'* 
said  Jonas  angrily. 

"  I — I  forget  sometimes,"  said  Mrs.  Brent,  with  a 
half-sigh. 

"  Then  you  ought  not  to  forget.  Do  you  want  to 
spoil  everything?" 


TEE  FALSE  HEIR.  i27 

"  We  are  alone  now,  Jonas,  and  I  cannc  i  forget 
ihat  I  am  your  mother." 

"  You'd  better,  if  you  know  what's  best  for  both  of 
us,"  said  Jonas. 

Mrs.  Brent  was  far  from  being  a  kind-hearted 
woman.  Indeed  she  was  very  cold,  but  Jonas  was 
her  only  son,  and  to  him  she  was  as  much  attached 
as  it  was  possible  for  her  to  be  to  any  one.  Formerly 
he  had  returned  her  affection  in  a  slight  degree,  but 
since  he  had  figured  as  a  rich  man's  son  and  heir  he 
had  begun,  incredible  as  it  may  appear,  to  look 
down  upon  his  own  mother.  She  was  not  wholly 
ignorant  of  this  change  in  his  feelings,  and  it  made 
her  unhappy.  He  was  all  she  had  to  live  for.  But 
for  him  she  would  not  have  stooped  to  take  part  in 
the  conspiracy  in  which  she  was  now  a  participant. 
It  seemed  hard  that  her  only  son,  for  whom  she  had 
sinned,  should  prove  so  ungratefuL 

"  My  boy,"  she  said,  "  I  would  not  on  any  account 
harm  you  or  injure  your  prospects,  but  when  we 
are  alone  there  can  be  no  harm  in  my  treating  you 
as  my  son." 

"  It  can't  do  any  good,"  grumbled  Jonas,  "  and  we 
might  be  overheard." 

"■  1  will  be  cautious.  You  may  be  sure  of  that. 
But  why  do  you  look  so  annoyed  ?" 

"Why?  Eeason  enough.  That  boy  Dan,  the 
under-gardener,  has  been  impudent  to  me." 

"He  has?"  said  Mrs.  Brent  quickly.  "What  has 
he  done?" 


228  TEE  ERRAND  BO  F. 

Jonas  rehearsed  the  story.  He  found  m  hia 
mother  a  sympathetic  listener. 

"  He  is  bold !"  she  said,  compressing  her  lips. 

"  Yes,  he  is.  "When  I  told  him  I  would  have  him 
turned  off,  he  coolly  turned  round  and  said  that  my 
father  was  a  gentleman,  and  wouldn't  send  him 
away.    Ma,  will  you  do  me  a  favor?" 

"What  is  it,  Jonas r 

"Send  him  off  before  the  governor  gets  homa 
You  can  make  it  all  right  with  hiniL" 

Mrs.  Brent  hesitated. 

"Mr.  Granville  might  think  I  was  taking  a  lib- 
erty." 

"  Oh,  you  can  make  it  all  right  with  him.  Say 
that  he  was  very  impudent  to  me.  After  what  has 
happened,  if  he  stays  he'U  think  he  can  treat  me 
just  as  he  pleases." 

Again  Mrs.  Brent  hesitated,  but  her  own  inclinsr 
tion  prompted  her  to  do  as  her  son  desired. 

"You  may  tell  Dan  to  come  here.  I  wish  to 
speak  to  him,"  she  said. 

Jonas  went  out  and  did  the  errand. 

"Mrs.  Brent  wants  to  see  me?"  said  Dan.  **  i 
have  nothing  to  do  with  her." 

"  You'd  better  come  in  if  you  know  what's  best 
for  yourself,"  said  Jonas,  with  an  exultation  he  did 
not  attempt  to  conceal. 

"  Oh,  well,  I  have  no  objection  to  meeting  Mrs. 
Brent,"  said  Dan.    "  I'U  go  mP 


THE  FALSE  HEIR.  229 

Mrs.  Brent  eyed  the  young  gardener  with  cold  ani- 
wosity. 

"  You  have  been  impudent  to  Master  Philip,"  she 
said.  "  Of  course  you  cannot  remain  any  longer  in 
his  father's  emplojnnent.  Here  are  five  do/lars — 
more  than  is  due  you.  Take  it,  and  leave  the  es- 
tate.'* 

"  I  won't  take  your  money,  Mrs.  Brent,"  said  Dan 
mdependently,  "  and  I  won't  take  my  dismissal  from 
any  one  but  Mr.  Granville  himself." 

"  Do  you  defy  me,  then  ?"  said  Mrs.  Brent,  with  a 
firmer  compression  of  her  lips. 

"  Ko,  Mrs.  Brent,  I  don't  defy  you,  but  you  have 
nothing  to  do  with  me,  and  I  shall  not  take  any  or- 
ders or  any  dismissal  from  you." 

'*  Don't  be  impertinent  to  my "  burst   forth 

Vom  Jonas,  and  then  he  stopped  in  confusion. 

*'  To  your — what  ?"  asked  Dan  quickly. 

"  To  my — nurse,"  faltered  Jonas. 

Dan  looked  suspiciously  from  one  to  the  other, 

"  There's  something  betwen  those  two,"  he  said  to 
himself.    "  Something  we  don't  know  of." 


830  TS^  ERRAND  BOV. 


CHAPTER  XXXVa 

MES.  BEENT*S  PANItt 

THE  CHAMBERMAID  in  the  Granville  house- 
hold  was  a  cousin  of  Dan,  older  by  three  years. 
She  took  a  warm  interest  in  Dan's  welfare,  though 
there  was  nothing  but  cousinly  affection  between 
them. 

Fresh  from  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Brent,  Dan 
made  his  way  to  the  kitchen. 

"  Well,  Aggie,"  he  said, "  I  may  have  to  say  good- 
by  soon." 

"  What,  Dan !  You're  not  for  lavin',  are  you  V* 
asked  Aggie,  in  surprise. 

"  Mrs.  Brent  has  just  given  me  notice,"  answered 
Dan. 

"  Mrs.  Brent !  What  business  is  it  of  her's,  and 
how  did  it  happen,  anyway  f * 

"  She  thinks  it's  her  business,  and  it's  all  on  account 
of  that  stuck-up  Philip." 

"  Tell  me  about  it,  Cousin  Dan." 

Dan  did  so,  and  wound  up  by  repeating  his  young 
master's  unfinished  sentence. 

"  It's  my  belief,"  he  said,  "  that  there's  something 


MRS.  BBBNrS  PANIC.  331 

between  those  two.  If  there  wasn't,  why  is  Mrs. 
Brent  here  ?" 

"  "Why,  indeed,  Dan  ?"  chimed  in  Aggie.  "  Per- 
haps I  can  guess  something." 

"  What  is  it  ?" 

•'  Never  you  mind.  I'll  only  say  I  overheard  Mrs. 
Brent  one  day  speaking  to  Master  PhiUp,  but  she 
didn't  call  him  Philip." 

"What  then?" 

"  Jonas  !  I'm  ready  to  take  my  oath  she  called 
him  Jonas." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  his  real  name.  He  may  have  it 
for  his  middle  name." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  Dan,  I've  an  idea.  I'm  going 
to  see  Mrs.  Brent  and  make  her  think  I  know 
something.     You  see  ?" 

"Do  as  you  think  best,  Aggie.  I  told  her  I 
wouldn't  take  a  dismissal  from  her." 

Mrs.  Brent  was  in  her  own  room.  She  was  not  a 
woman  who  easily  forgave,  and  she  was  provoked 
with  Dan,  who  had  defied  her  authority.  She  knew 
very  well  that  in  dismissing  him  she  had  whoUy  ex- 
ceeded her  authority,  but  this,  as  may  readily  be 
supposed,  did  not  make  her  feel  any  more  friendly 
to  the  young  gardener.  Jonas  artfuUy  fed  her  indigo 
nation. 

"  Dan  doesn't  have  much  respect  for  you,  mother," 
he  said.  "  He  doesn't  mind  you  any  more  than  he 
does  a  kitchen-girl." 


232  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  He  may  find  he  has  made  a  mistake,"  said  Mrs. 
Brent,  a  bright  red  spot  in  each  cheek,  indicating 
her  anger.  "  He  may  find  he  has  made  a  mistake  in 
defying  my  authority." 

"  I  wouldn't  stand  it  if  I  was  you,  ma." 

"  I  won't !"  said  Mrs.  Brent  decidedly,  nodding 
vigorously  and  compressing  her  lips  more  firmly. 

Soon  after  a  knock  was  heard  at  Mrs.  Brent's 
door. 

"  Come  in !"  she  said  in  a  sharp,  incisive  voice. 

The  door  was  opened  and  Aggie  entered. 

"  "What  do  you  want  of  me,  Aggie  ?"  asked  Mrs. 
Brent,  in  some  surprise. 

"  I  hear  you've  been  tellin'  Dan  he'll  have  to  go," 
said  the  chambermaid. 

"  Tes,"  answered  Mrs.  Brent,  "  but  I  fail  to  see 
what  business  it  is  of  yours." 

"  Dan's  me  cousin,  ma'am." 

"  That's  nothing  to  me.  He  has  been  impertinent 
to  Master  Philip,  and  afterward  to  me." 

"  I  know  aU  about  it,  ma'am.     He  told  me." 

"  Then  you  understand  why  he  must  leave.  He 
will  do  well  to  be  more  respectful  in  his  next 
place." 

"  It  wasn't  his  fault,  ma'am,  accordin'  to  what  he 
told  me." 

'•  No  doubt !"  sneered  Mrs.  Brent.  "  It  is  hardly 
likely  that  he  would  admit  himself  to  be  in  fault." 

"  Dan's  a  good,  truthful  boy,  ma'am." 


MRS.  BRENTS  PANIC.  233 

"  What  did  he  tell  you  ?" 

The  moment  had  come  for  Aggie's  master-stroke, 
and  she  fixed  her  eyes  keenly  on  Mrs.  Brent  to 
watch  the  effect  of  her  words. 

"  He  said  he  was  at  work  in  the  garden,  ma'am, 
when  Master  Jonas " 

'■'■What!''''  exclaimed  Mrs.  Brent,  staring  at  the 
girl  in  dismay. 

"  He  was  at  work  in  the  garden,  ma'am  when 
Master  Jonas " 

"  "What  do  you  mean,  girl  ?  Who  is  Master 
Jonas?"  asked  Mrs.  Brent,  trying  to  conceal  her 
agitation. 

•'  Did  I  say  Jonas,  ma'am.  La,  what  could  I  be 
thinking  of?    Of  course  I  mean  Master  Phihp." 

"  What  should  have  put  the  name  of  Jonas  into 
your  head  ?"  demanded  Mrs.  Brent  nervously. 

"  I  must  have  heard  it  somewhere,"  said  Aggie, 
with  a  quick,  shrewd  look  out  of  the  corner  of  her 
eyes.  "  Well,  Dan  just  asked  the  young  master  a 
civil  question,  and  Master  Phihp,  he  snapped  him 
up  rude-like.  Mrs.  Brent  I  think  you'd  better  not 
make  any  fuss  about  Dan.  It  wasn't  so  much  his 
fault  as  the  fault  of  Master  Jonas — oh,  dear  !  I  beg 
pardon,  I  mean  Master  Philip." 

"Don't  repeat  that  ridiculous  name  again,  Ag- 
gie !"  said  Mrs.  Brent.  "  Your  young  master  has 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  You  ought  to  know  that  his 
name  is  PhiMp." 


234  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  I  should  say  so  !"  broke  in  Jonas.  "  I  ain't  goin* 
to  be  called  out  of  my  name !" 

"  As  to  Dan,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Brent.  "  I  am  will- 
ing to  overlook  his  impertinence  this  time.  I  won't 
say  a  word  to  Mr.  Granville,  but  he  must  be  more 
careful  hereafter."' 

^  "  I'm  sure  I'm  obliged  to  you,  ma'am,"  said  Aggie 
demurely. 

"When  she  was  out  of  the  room  she  nodded  to  her- 
self triumphantly. 

"  Sure,  I've  got  the  old  lady  under  me  thumb,  but 
divil  a  bit  I  know  how.  It's  aU  in  the  word  Jonas. 
When  I  want  a  favor,  all  I've  got  to  do  is  to  say  that 
word.     I  wonder  what  it  manes  now,  anyhow." 

However,  Aggie  communicated  to  Dan  the  wel- 
come intelligence  that  he  would  have  no  trouble 
with  Mrs.  Brent  or  Philip,  but  as  to  the  way  in 
which  she  had  managed  she  kept  that  to  herself. 

"  I  want  to  think  it  over,"  she  said.  "  There's  a 
secret,  and  it's  about  Jonas.  I'll  wait  patiently, 
and  maybe  I'U  hear  some  more  about  it." 

As  for  Mrs.  Brent,  she  was  panic-stricken.  Un- 
certain how  much  Aggie  knew,  she  feared  that  she 
knew  all.  But  how  could  she  have  discovered  it  ? 
And  was  it  come  to  this  that  she  and  Jonas  were  in 
the  power  of  an  Irish  chambermaid  ?  It  was  galling 
to  her  pride. 

She  turned  to  her  son  when  they  were  left  alone. 

''  Hp^  .X)uld  she  have  found  out  ?"  she  asked. 


MRS.  BRENT\S  PANIC.  335 

"  Found  out  what,  mother  ?" 

"  That  your  name  is  Jonas.  She  evidently  knows 
it.     I  could  see  that  in  her  eyes." 

"  She  must  have  heard  you  calling  me  so.  I've 
told  you  more  than  once,  ma,  that  you  must  never 
call  me  anything  but  Philip." 

"  It  is  hard  to  have  to  keep  silent  always,  never 
to  speak  to  you  as  my  own  boy.  I  begin  to  think  it 
is  a  dear  price  to  pay,  Jonas." 

"  There  you  go  again,  mother !"  said  Jonas,  peev- 
ishly. 

His  mother  had  seated  herself  and  spoke  despond- 
ently. 

"  I  am  afraid  it  will  aU  come  out  some  day,"  she 
said. 

"  It  will  if  you  don't  take  better  care,  ma.  I  tell 
you,  it  would  be  the  best  thing  for  you  to  go  away. 
Mr.  Granville  will  give  you  a  good  income.  If  I 
was  left  alone,  there'd  be  no  fear  of  its  leaking 
out." 

"  Oh,  Jonas !  would  you  really  have  me  leave  you  ? 
Would  you  really  have  me  live  by  myself,  separated 
from  my  only  child  ?" 

Cold  as  she  was^  her  heart  was  keenly  wounded, 
for,  looking  at  the  boy,  she  saw  that  he  was  in 
earnest,  and  that  he  would  prefer  to  have  her  go, 
since  thereby  he  would  be  safer  in  the  position  he 
had  usurped. 


236  THE  ERRAND  BOr, 


CHAPTER  XXXVm. 

Air     IMPORTANT     DISCOVERY. 

■  J* 

MR.  CARTER,  can  you  spare  me  a  couple  of 
days?"  asked  Philip. 

"  Certainly,  Phil,"  answered  the  old  gentleman. 
"  May  I  ask  how  you  wish  to  dispose  of  the  time  ?" 

"  I  would  like  to  go  to  Planktown  to  see  my 
friends  there.  It  is  now  some  months  since  i  left 
the  village,  and  I  would  like  to  see  my  old  friends." 

"The  desire  is  a  natural  one.  Your  home  is 
broken  up,  is  it  not  V 

"Yes,  but  I  can  stay  at  the  house  of  Tommy 
Kavanagh.     I  know  he  wUl  be  glad  to  have  me." 

"  It  is  strange  that  your  step-mother  and  her  son 
have  left  no  trace  behind  them,"  said  Mr.  Carter 
thoughtfully.  "  It  looks  suspicious,  as  if  they  had 
some  good  reason  for  their  disappearance." 

"  I  can't  understand  why  they  should  have  left 
Planktown,"  said  Philip,  appearing  puzzled. 

"  Is  the  house  occupied  ?" 

"  Yes.  I  hear  that  a  cousin  of  Mrs.  Brent  occupies 
it.     I  shaU  call  and  inquire  after  her." 

"  Very  well,  Philip.  Go  when  you  please.  You 
may  be  sure  of  a  welcome  when  you  return.** 


AN  IMPORTANT  DISCO  VER  7,  237 

"In  Planktown,  though  his  home  relations  lat- 
terly had  not  been  pleasant,  Philip  had  many 
friends,  and  when  he  appeared  on  the  street,  he  met 
everywhere  glances  of  friendly  welcome.  One  of 
the  first  to  meet  him  was  Tommy  Kavanagh. 

"  Where  did  you  come  from,  Phil  ?"  he  asked. 
"  I  am  glad  enough  to  see  you.  Where  are  you 
staying  ?" 

"  Nowhere,  Tommy,  at  present.  If  your  mother 
can  take  me  in,  I  will  stay  at  your  house." 

"  Take  you  ?  Yes,  and  will  be  glad  enough  to 
have  you  stay  with  us.  You  know  we  live  in  a 
small  house,  but  if  you  don't  mind " 

''  What  do  you  take  me  for,  Tommy  ?"  Whatever 
is  good  enough  for  you  and  your  mother  wiU  be 
good  enough  for  me." 

"  What  are  you  doing,  Phil  ?  You  don't  look  as 
if  you  had  hard  work  making  a  living." 

"  I  am  well  fixed  now,  but  I  have  had  some  anx. 
ious  days.  But  all's  well  that  ends  well.  I  am  pri. 
vate  secretary  to  a  rich  man,  and  live  in  a  fine 
brown-stone  house  on  Madison  Avenue." 

"  Good  for  you,  Phil !     I  knew  you'd  succeed." 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Brent  ?"  Has  anything  been 
heard  from  her  ?" 

"1  don't  think  anybody  in  the  village  knows 
where  she  is — that  is,  except  her  cousin,  who  lives 
in  your  old  house." 

"What  is  his  name?" 


838  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Hugh  Raynor." 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  is  he  ?" 

"  The  people  in  the  village  don't  like  him.  He 
lives  alone,  and  I  hear  that  he  cooks  for  himself. 
He  is  not  at  all  social,  and  no  one  feels  very  much 
acquainted  with  him." 

fc  "I  shaU  caU  upon  him  and   inquire  after  Mrs. 
Brent." 

"Then,  Phil,  you  had  better  go  alone,  for  he 
doesn't  like  callers,  and  he  wiU  be  more  ready  to  re- 
ceive one  than  two." 

Philip  enjoyed  his  visit,  and  was  busied  making 
calls  on  his  old  acquaintances.  He  was  much 
pleased  with  the  cordiality  with  which  he  had  been 
received. 

It  was  not  tiU  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
that  he  turned  his  steps  toward  the  house  which  had 
been  his  home  for  so  long  a  time. 

We  will  precede  him,  and  explain  matters  which 
made  his  visit  very  seasonable. 

In  the  sitting-room  sat  Hugh  Raynor,  the  present 
occupant  of  the  house.  He  was  a  smaU,  dark-com- 
plexioned man,  with  a  large  Roman  nose,  and  his 
face  was  at  this  moment  expressive  of  discontent. 
This  seemed  to  be  connected  with  a  letter  which  he 
had  just  been  reading.  Not  to  keep  the  reader  ij 
suspense,  it  was  mailed  at  Chicago,  and  was  written 
by  Mrs.  Brent.    We  wiU  quote  a  paragraph : 


AN  IMPORTANT  DISCO  VEB  Y.  231 

"  Yon  seem  to  me  very  unreasonable  in  expecting 
me  not  only  to  give  you  the  house  rent-free,  but 
also  to  give  you  a  salary.  I  would  like  to  know 
what  you  do  to  merit  a  salary.  You  merely  tak-e 
care  of  the  house.  As  for  that,  there  are  plenty 
who  would  be  glad  to  take  charge  of  so  good  a 
house,  and  pay  me  a  fair  rent.  Indeed,  I  am  think- 
ing that  it  will  be  best  for  me  to  make  soiue  such 
arrangement,  especially  as  you  do  not  seem  satis- 
fied Avith  3^our  sinecure  position.  You  represent  me 
as  rolling  in  wealth.  Jonas  and  I  are  living  very 
comfortably,  and  we  have  nothing  to  complain  of, 
but  that  is  no  reason  for  my  squandering  the  small 
fortune  left  me  by  my  husband.  I  advise  you  to  be 
a  little  more  reasonable  in  your  demands,  or  I  shall 
request  you  to  leave  my  house.-' 

"  Selfish  as  ever,"  muttered  Mr,  Raynor,  after 
reading  this  letter  over  again,  *'  Cousin  Jane  never 
was  willing  that  any  one  elso  should  prosper.  But 
she  has  made  a  mistake  in  thinking  she  can  treat 
me  meanly.  /  ain  in  a  position  to  turn  the  tables 
wpon  her  !  This  paper — if  she  dreamed  I  had  found 
it,  she  would  yield  to  all  my  demands.'' 

He  laid  his  hand  upon  a  paper,  folded  lengthwise, 
and  presenting  the  appeai^ance  of  a  legal  document. 

He  opened  the  paper  and  read  aloud : 

"To  the  boy  generally  known  as  Philip  Brent, 
and  supposed,  though  incorrectly,  to  be  my  son,  T 
bequeath  the  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars,  and 
direct  the  same  to  be  paid  over  to  any  one  whom  he 
may  select  as  guardian,  to  hold  in  trust  for  him  until 
he  attains  the  age  of  twenty-one." 


240  THE  ERR  A  ND  BOY. 

"  This  will  Mrs.  Brent  carefully  concealed,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Eaynor,  "  in  order  to  save  the  money  for 
herself  and  Jonas,  I  wonder  she  was  not  prudent 
enough  to  burn  it,  or,  at  any  rate,  to  take  it  with  her 
when  she  left  Planktown.  It  is  a  damaging  secret, 
but  I  hold  it,  and  I  mean  to  use  it,  too.  Let  me  see, 
what  is  it  best  to  do  ?" 

Mr.  Raynor  spent  some  time  in  quiet  thought. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  it  might  be  weU  to  hint  his 
discovery  in  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Brent,  and  to  make  it 
the  basis  of  a  demand  for  a  generous  sum  of  hush- 
money — one  thousand  dollars,  at  least.  He  might 
have  decided  to  do  this  but  for  an  incident  which 
suggested  another  course. 

The  door-bell  rang,  and  when  he  opened  the  door 
with  some  surprise,  for  callers  were  few,  he  saw 
standing  before  him  a  tall,  handsome  boy,  whom  he 
did  not  recognize. 

"  Do  you  wish  to  see  me  ?"  he  asked.  "  What  is 
your  name?" 

"  My  name  is  Philip  Brent." 

"  What !"  exclaimed  Mr.  Raynor,  in  visible  excite- 
ment, "  are  you  the  son  of  the  late  Mr.  Brent  ?" 

"I  was  always  regarded  as  such,"  answered 
Phihp. 

"  Come  in,  then.  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  said  Mr, 
Raynor ;  and  Phil  entered  the  house,  surprised  at  a 
reception  much  more  cordial  than  he  had  ex- 
pected. 


AN  IMPORTANT  DI8V0  VER T.  241 

In  that  brief  moment  Mr.  Raynor  had  decided  to 
reveal  the  secret  to  Phil,  and  trust  to  his  gratitude 
for  a  suitable  acknowledgment.  In  this  way  he 
would  revenge  himself  upon  Mrs.  Brent,  who  had 
treated  him  so  meanly. 

"  I  have  been  wishing  to  see  you,  for  I  have  a 
secret  of  importance  to  communicate,"  said  Mr. 
Raynor. 

"  If  it  relates  to  my  parents,  I  know  it  already," 
said  Phil. 

"  No ;  it  is  something  to  your  advantage.  In  re- 
vealing it  I  make  Mrs.  Brent  my  enemy,  and  shall 
forfeit  the  help  she  is  giving  me." 

"  If  it  is  really  of  advantrge  to  me,  and  I  am  able 
to  make  up  your  loss  to  you,  I  wiU  do  it,"  said  Phil. 

"  That  is  sufficient.  I  will  trust  to  your  honor. 
You  look  like  a  boy  who  will  keep  a  promise  though 
not  legally  bound." 

"  You  only  do  me  justice,  Mr.  Raynor." 

"  Then  cast  your  eye  upon  this  paper  and  you  wiU 
know  the  secret." 

"  Is  it  a  will  ?"  exclaimed  Phil,  in  surprise. 

"  Yes,  it  is  the  will  of  the  late  Gerald  Brent.  By 
it  he  bequeaths  to  you  five  thousand  dollars.*' 

"  Then  he  did  not  forget  me,"  said  Phil,  more 
pleased  with  the  assurance  that  he  had  been  re- 
membered than  by  the  sum  of  money  bequeathed 
to  him.  "  But  why  have  I  not  known  this  before  ?" 
he  asked,  looking  up  from  the  will. 


242  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

"  You  must  ask  that  of  Mrs,  Brent !"  said  Mr, 
Ray  nor  significantly. 

"  Do  you  think  she  suppressed  it  purposely  ?" 

"  I  do,"  answered  Raynor  laconically. 

"  I  must  see  her.     Where  can  I  find  her  ?" 

*'  I  can  only  say  that  her  letters  to  me  are  mailed 
in  Chicago,  but  she  scrupulously  keeps  her  address 
a  secret.-' 

"  Then  I  must  go  to  Chicago,  May  I  take  this 
paper  with  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  advise  you  to  put  it  into  the  hands  of  a 
lawyer  for  safe  keeping.  You  will  not  forget  that 
you  are  indebted  to  me  for  it  ?" 

"No,  Mr,  Raynor.  I  will  take  care  you  lose 
nothing  by  your  revelation," 

The  next  morning  Phil  returned  to  New  Yoi*k, 


Phli  is  shown  the  will  aruing-  him  five  thousand  dollars. 


•iU  TME  ERRAND  EOT, 


CHAPTEK   XXXIX. 

AT     THE     PALMER     HOUSE. 

IT  MAY  be  readily  supposed  that  Phil's  !N^ew 
York  friends  listened  with  the  greatest  atten- 
tion to  his  account  of  what  he  had  learned  in  his 
visit  to  Planktown. 

"  Your  step-mother  is  certainly  an  unscrupulous 
woman,"  said  Mr,  Carter.  "  Doubtless  she  has  left 
your  old  town  in  order  to  escape  accountability  to 
you  for  your  stolen  inheritance.  What  puzzles  me, 
however,  is  her  leaving  behind  such  tell-tale  evi- 
dence. It  is  a  remarkable  oversight.  Do  you  think 
she  is  aware  of  the  existence  of  the  will  ?" 

"I  think  she  must  be,  though  I  hope  not,"  an- 
swered Phil.  "  I  should  like  to  think  that  she  had 
not  conspired  to  keep  back  my  share  of  father's 
estate." 

"  At  any  rate,  the  first  thing  to  do  is  evidently  to 
find  her  out,  and  confront  her  with  the  evidence  of 
her  crime — that  is,  supposing  her  to  be  really  cul- 
pable." 

"Then  you  approve  of  my  going  to  Chicago?" 
said  PhlL 


AT  TEE  PALMER  HOUSE.  345 

"  Most  emphatically.  Nay,  more — I  will  go  with 
you." 

"  Will  you  indeed,  sir  ?"  said  Phil  joyfully.  "  You 
are  very  kind.  I  shrank  from  going  alone,  being  a 
boy  ignorant  of  business." 

"  A  pretty  shrewd  boy,  however,"  said  Mr.  Carter, 
smiling.  "  I  don't  claim  much  credit,  however,  as  I 
have  some  interests  in  Chicago  to  which  I  can  attend 
with  advantage  personally.  I  am  interested  in  a 
Western  railroad,  the  main  office  of  which  is  in  that 
city." 

"  When  shall  we  go,  sir  ?" 

"  To-morrow,"  answered  Mr.  Carter  promptly. 
"  The  sooner  the  better.  You  may  go  down  town 
and  procure  the  necessary  tickets,  and  engage  sleep- 
ing-berths." 

Here  followed  the  necessary  directions,  which  need 
not  be  repeated. 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  twenty-four  hours  later 
Phil  and  his  employer  were  passengers  on  a  light- 
ning express  train  bound  for  Chicago. 

They  arrived  in  due  season,  without  any  adventure 
worth  naming,  and  took  rooms  at  the  Palmer  House. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  in  the  same  hotel  at  the 
very  same  moment  were  three  persons  in  whom 
Phil  was  vitally  interested.  These  were  Mrs.  Brent, 
Jonas,  otherwise  called  Philip  Granville,  and  Mr. 
Granville  himself. 

Let  me  explain  their  presence  in  Chicago,  when, 


346  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 

as  we  know,  Mr.  Granville's  house  was  situated  at 
some  distance  away. 

Jonas  had  preferred  a  petition  to  go  to  Chicago 
for  a  week,  in  order  to  attend  some  of  the  amuse- 
ments there  to  be  enjoyed,  alleging  that  it  was  aw- 
fully dull  in  the  country. 

Mr.  Granville  was  inclined  to  be  very  indulgent, 
to  make  up  for  the  long  years  in  which  he  had  been 
compelled  practically  to  desert  his  son.  The  peti- 
tion therefore  received  favor. 

"  It  is  onl}^  natural  that  you  should  wish  to  see 
something  of  the  city,  my  son,"  he  said.  "  I  will 
grant  your  request.  "We  will  go  to  Chicago,  and  re- 
main a  week  at  the  Palmer  House.  Mrs.  Brent,  will 
you  accompany  us  ?" 

"With  pleasure,  Mr.  Granville,"  answered  that 
lady.  "  It  is  not  duU  here  for  me,  still  I  shall  no 
doubt  enjoy  a  little  excitement.  At  any  rate,  I 
shaU  be  best  pleased  to  be  where  you  and  your  son 
are." 

"  Then  so  let  it  be.     We  will  go  to-morrow." 

One  secret  wish  and  scheme  of  Mrs.  Brent  has 
not  been  referred  to.  She  felt  that  her  present  posi- 
tion was  a  precarious  one.  She  might  at  any  time 
be  found  out,  and  then  farewell  to  wealth  and 
luxury !  But  if  she  could  induce  Mr.  Granville  to 
marry  her,  she  would  then  be  secure,  even  if  found 
out,  and  Jonas  would  be  the  son  of  Mr.  Granville, 
though  detected  as  a  usurper.     She,  therefore,  made 


AT  THE  PALMER  HOUSE.  247 

herself  as  agreeable  as  possible  to  Mr.  Granville, 
anticipated  bis  every  wish,  and  assumed  the  charac- 
ter, which  she  did  not  possess,  of  a  gracious  and 
feminine  woman  of  unruffled  good  humor  and 
sweetness  of  disposition. 

"  I  say,  ma,"  Jonas  observed  on  one  occasion, 
"you've  improved  ever  so  much  since  you  came 
here.  You're  a  good  deal  better  natured  than  you 
were." 

Mrs.  Brent  smiled,  but  she  did  not  care  to  take 
her  son  into  her  confidence. 

"  Here  I  have  no  cares  to  trouble  me,"  she  said. 
"  I  live  here  in  a  way  that  suits  me." 

But  when  they  were  about  starting  for  Chicago, 
Mrs.  Brent  felt  herself  becoming  unaccountably  de- 
pressed. 

''  Jonas,"  she  said,  "  I  am  sorry  we  are  going  to 
Chicago." 

*'  Why,  ma  ?    We'll  have  a  splendid  time." 

'•I  feel  as  if  some  misfortune  were  impending 
over  us,"  said  his  mother,  and  she  shivered  appre- 
hensively. 

But  it  was  too  late  to  recede.  Besides,  Jonas 
wished  to  go,  and  she  had  no  good  reason  to  allege 
for  breaidng  the  arrangement. 


•248  THE  ERRAND  BOY, 


CHAPTEK  XL. 

A   SCENE   NOT   ON   THE   BILLS. 

PHIL  was  in  Chicago,  but  that  was  only  the  first 
step  toward  finditig  those  of  whom  he  was  in 
Bearch.  Had  he  been  sure  that  they  were  in  the 
city,  it  would  have  simplified  matters,  but  the  fact 
that  Mrs.  Brent  directed  her  letters  to  be  sent  to 
that  city  proved  nothing.  It  did  not  make  it  certain 
that  she  lived  in  the  town. 

"  We  are  only  at  the  beginning  of  our  perplexi- 
ties, Phihp,"  said  Mr.  Carter.  "  Your  friends  may 
be  near  us,  or  they  may  be  a  hundred  miles  away." 

"  That  is  true,  sir." 

"  One  method  of  finding  them  is  barred,  that  of 
advertising,  since  they  undoubtedly  do  not  care  to 
be  found,  and  an  advertisement  would  only  place 
them  on  their  guard." 

"  "What  would  you  advise,  sir  ?" 

"  "We  might  employ  a  detective  to  watch  the  post- 
office,  but  here  again  there  might  be  disappoint- 
ment. Mrs.  Brent  might  employ  a  third  person  to 
call  for  her  letters.  However,  I  have  faith  to  be- 
lieve that  sooner  or  later  we  shall  find  her.  Time 
and  patience  accomplishes  much." 


A  SCENE  NOT  ON  TEE  BILLS.  249 

"Were  you  ever  a  detective,  sir?"  asked  Phil, 
smiling. 

"  No,  Philip,  but  I  have  had  occasion  to  employ 
them.  Now  how  would  you  like  to  go  to  the  thea- 
ter this  evening  ?" 

"  Very  much,  sir." 

"  There  is  a  good  play  running  at  McVicker's 
Theatre.     We  will  go  there." 

"  Anywhere  will  suit  me,  Mr.  Carter." 

"  Young  people  are  easily  satisfied,"  he  said. 
"  When  they  get  older  they  get  more  fastidious. 
However,  there  is  generally  something  attractive  at 
McYicker's." 

It  so  happened  that  Philip  and  his  employer  took 
a  late  dinner,  and  did  not  reach  the  theater  till  ten 
minutes  after  the  hour.  They  had  seats  in  the 
seventh  row  of  orchestra  chairs,  a  very  eligible  por- 
tion of  the  house. 

The  curtain  had  risen,  and  Philip's  attention  was 
given  to  the  stage  till  the  end  of  the  first  act.  Then 
he  began  to  look  around  him. 

Suddenly  he  started  and  half  rose  from  his  seat. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Philip  ?"  asked  Mr.  Carter. 

"  There,  sir !  Look  there !"  said  the  boy,  in  excite- 
ment, pointing  to  two  persons  in  the  fourth  row  in 
front. 

'*  Do  you  recognize  acquaintances,  Philip  ?" 

"  It  is  my  step-mother  and  Jonas,"  answered 
Philip  eagerly. 


250  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  wonderful !"  said  Mr.  Carter,  shar- 
ing the  boy's  excitement.  "  You  are  confident,  are 
your' 

"  Oh,  sir,  I  couldn't  be  mistaken  about  that." 

Just  then  Mrs.  Brent  turned  to  a  gentleman  at 
iier  side  and  spoke.     It  was  Mr.  Granville. 

"  Who  is  that  gentleman  ?"  said  Mr.  Carter  re- 
flectively. "  Do  you  think  Mrs.  Brent  is  married 
again  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think  I"  said  PhiUp,  be- 
wildered. 

"I  will  tell  you  what  to  do.  You  cannot  allow 
these  people  to  elude  you.  Go  to  the  hotel,  ask  a 
direction  to  the  nearest  detective  oflEice,  have  a  man 
detailed  to  come  here  directly,  and  let  him  find,  if 
necessary,  where  your  step-mother  and  her  son  are 
living." 

Philip  did  so,  and  it  was  the  close  of  the  second 
act  before  he  returned.  With  him  was  a  smaU,  quiet 
gentleman,  of  unpretending  appearance,  but  skilled 
as  a  detective. 

"  Now,"  continued  Mr.  Carter,  "  you  may  venture 
at  any  time  to  go  forward  and  speak  to  your 
friends — if  they  can  be  called  such." 

"  I  don't  think  they  can,  sir.  I  won't  go  tiU  the 
last  intermission." 

Phil  was  forestalled,  however.  At  the  close  of  the 
fourth  act  Jonas  happened  to  look  back,  and  his 
glance  fell  upon  Philip. 


A  SCENE  NOT  ON  THE  BILLS.  251 

A  scared,  dismayed  look  was  on  his  face  as  he 
clutched  his  mother's  arm  and  whispered  : 

"  Ma,  Philip  is  sitting  just  back  of  us." 

Mrs.  Brent's  heart  almost  ceased  to  beat.  She 
saw  that  the  moment  of  exposure  was  probably  at 
hand. 

"With  pale  face  she  whispered  : 

"  Has  he  seen  us  ?" 

"  He  is  looking  right  at  us." 

She  had  time  to  say  no  more.  Philip  left  his  seat, 
and  coming  forward,  approached  the  seat  of  his  step- 
mother. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Brent  ?"  he  said. 

She  stared  at  him,  but  did  not  speak. 

"  How  are  you,  Jonas  ?"  continued  our  hero. 

"My  name  isn't  Jonas,"  muttered  the  boy  ad- 
dressed. 

Mr.  Granville  meanwhile  had  been  eagerly  look- 
ing at  Philip.  There  appeared  to  be  something  in 
his  appearance  which  riveted  the  attention  of  the 
beholder.  Was  it  the  voice  of  nature  which  spoke 
from  the  striking  face  of  the  boy  ? 

"  You  have  made  a  mistake,  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Brent, 
summoning  all  her  nerve.  "  I  am  not  the  lady  you 
mention,  and  this  boy  does  not  bear  the  name  of 
Jonas." 

"  "What  is  his  name,  then  ?"  demanded  Philip. 

"  My  name  is  Philip  Granville,"  answered  Jonas 
quickly. 


Z52  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

"  Is  it  ?  Then  it  has  changed  suddenly,"  an. 
swered  Phil,  in  a  sarcastic  voice.  "  Six  months  ago, 
when  we  were  all  living  at  Planktown,  your  name 
was  Jonas  "Webb." 

"  You  must  be  a  lunatic !"  said  Mrs.  Brent,  with 
audacious  falsehood. 

"  My  own  name  is  Philip,  as  you  very  well  know." 

"Your  name  Philip?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Granvill^ 
with  an  excitement  which  he  found  it  hard  to  control. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;  the  lady  is  my  step-mother,  and  this 
boy  is  her  son  Jonas." 

"And  you — whose  son  are  you?"  gasped  Mr. 
Granville. 

"  I  don't  know,  sir.  I  was  left  at  an  early  age  at  a 
hotel  kept  by  this  lady's  husband,  by  my  father, 
who  never  returned." 

"  Then  you  must  be  my  son !"  said  Mr.  Granville. 
"  You  and  not  this  boy !" 

"  You,  sir  ?    Did  you  leave  me  ?" 

"  I  left  my  son  with  Mr.  Brent.  This  lady  led  me 
to  beHeve  that  the  boy  at  my  side  was  my  son." 

Here,  then,  was  a  sudden  and  startling  occurrence. 
Mrs.  Brent  fainted.  The  strain  had  been  too  much 
for  her  nerves,  strong  as  they  were.  Of  course  she 
must  be  attended  to. 

"  Come  with  me ;  I  cannot  lose  sight  of  you  now, 
my  sonP  said  Mr.  GranviUe.  "Where  are  you 
staying?" 

"  At  the  Palmer  House." 


A  SCENE  NOT  ON  THE  BILLS.  253 

"  So  am  I.  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  order  a 
carriage." 

Mrs.  Brent  was  conveyed  to  the  hotel,  and  Jonas 
followed  sullenly. 

Of  course  Philip,  Mr.  GranviUe  and  M.  Carter  left 
the  theater. 

Later  the  last  three  held  a  conference  in  the  parlor. 

It  took  little  to  convince  Mr.  Granville  that  Philip 
was  his  son. 

"  I  am  overjoyed !"  he  said.  "  I  have  never  been 
able  to  feel  toward  the  boy  whom  you  call  Jonas  as 
a  father  should.    He  was  very  distasteful  to  me." 

"  It  was  an  extraordinary  deception  on  the  part  of 
Mrs.  Brent,"  said  Mr,  Carter  thoughtfully. 

"  She  is  a  very  unprincipled  woman,"  said  Mr. 
Granville.  "Even  now  that  matters  have  come 
right,  I  find  it  hard  to  forgive  her." 

"  You  do  not  know  all  the  harm  she  has  sought 
to  do  your  son.  The  sum  of  five  thousand  dollars 
was  left  him  by  Mr.  Brent,  and  she  suppressed  the 
wiU." 

"  Grood  heavens !  is  this  true  ?" 

"  "We  have  the  evidence  of  it." 


The  next  day  an  important  interview  was  held  at 
the  Palmer  House.  Mrs.  Brent  was  forced  to 
acknowledge  the  imposition  she  had  practiced  upon 
Mr.  Granville. 


254  TEE  ERRAND  BOY. 

""What  could  induce  you  to  enter  into  such  a 
wicked  conspiracy  ?"  asked  Mr.  Granville,  shocked. 

"  The  temptation  was  strong — I  wished  to  make 
my  son  rich.     Besides,  I  hated  Philip." 

"  It  is  well  your  Avicked  plan  has  been  defeated ; 
it  might  have  marred  my  happiness  forever." 

"  "What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?"  she  asked 
cooUy,  but  not  without  anxiety. 

It  was  finally  settled  that  the  matter  should  be 
hushed  up.  Phihp  wished  to  give  up  the  sum  be- 
queathed him  by  Mr.  Brent ;  but  to  this  Mr.  Gran- 
ville objected,  feeling  that  it  would  constitute  a 
premium  on  fraud.  Besides,  Mrs.  Brent  would  have 
the  residue  of  the  estate,  amounting  to  nearly  ten 
thousand  doUars.  Being  allowed  to  do  what  he 
chose  with  this  money,  he  gave  it  in  equal  portions 
to  Tommy  Kavanagh  and  Mr.  Raynor,  who  had  in- 
formed him  of  the  existence  of  Mr.  Brent's  will. 

Mrs.  Brent  decided  not  to  go  back  to  Planktown. 
She  judged  that  the  story  of  her  wickedness  would 
reach  that  village  and  make  it  disagreeable  for  her. 
She  opened  a  smaU  millinery  store  in  Chicago,  and 
is  doing  fairly  weU.  But  Jonas  is  her  chief  trouble, 
as  he  is  lazy  and  addicted  to  intemperate  habits. 
His  chances  of  success  and  an  honorable  career  are 
smaU. 

"  How  can  I  spare  you,  Philip  ?"  said  Mr.  Carter 
regretfully.  "  I  know  your  father  has  the  best  right 
to  you,  but  T  don't  like  to  give  you  up." 


A  BCENE  NOT  ON  TEE  BILLS.  255 

"  You  need  not,"  said  Mr.  Granville.  "  I  propose 
to  remove  to  New  York ;  but  in  the  summer  I  shall 
come  to  my  estate  near  Chicago,  and  hope,  since  the 
house  is  large  enough,  that  I  may  persuade  you  and 
your  niece,  Mrs.  Forbush,  to  be  my  guests." 

This  arrangement  was  carried  out.  Mrs.  Forbush 
and  her  daughter  are  the  recognized  heirs  of  Mr. 
Carter,  who  is  whoUy  estranged  from  the  Pitkins. 
He  ascertained,  through  a  detective,  that  the  attack 
upon  Philip  by  the  man  who  stole  from  him  the  roll 
of  bills  was  privately  instigated  by  Mr.  Pitkin  him- 
self, in  the  hope  of  getting  Philip  into  trouble.  Mr. 
Carter,  thereupon,  withdrew  his  capital  from  the 
firm,  and  Mr.  Pitkin  is  generally  supposed  to  be  on 
the  verge  of  bankruptcy.  At  any  rate,  his  credit  is 
very  poor,  and  there  is  a  chance  that  the  Pitkins 
may  be  reduced  to  comparative  poverty. 

"  I  won't  let  Lavinia  suffer,"  said  Uncle  Oliver ; 
"  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  I  will  settle  a 
small  income,  say  twelve  hundred  dollars,  on  her, 
but  we  can  never  be  friends." 

As  Phil  grew  older — he  is  now  twenty-one — it 
seems  probable  that  he  and  Mr.  Carter  may  be 
more  closely  connected,  judging  from  his  gallant 
attentions  to  Juha  Forbush,  who  has  developed  into 
a  charming  young  lady.  Nothing  would  suit  Mr. 
Carter  better,  for  there  is  no  one  who  stands  higher 
in  his  regard  than  Philip  Granville,  the  Errand  Boy, 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE. 


F'RED  SARGENT,  upon  this  day  from  which 
my  story  dates,  went  to  the  head  of  his  Latin 
class,  in  the  high  school  of  Andrewsville.  The 
school  was  a  fine  one,  the  teachers  strict,  the  classes 
large,  the  boys  generally  gentlemanly,  and  the 
moral  tone  pervading  the  whole,  of  the  very  best 
character. 

To  lead  a  class  in  a  school  like  this  was  an  honor 
of  which  any  boy  might  have  been  proud ;  and 
Fred,  when  he  heard  his  name  read  off  at  the  head 
of  the  roll,  could  have  thrown  up  his  well-worn 
Latin  grammar,  which  he  happened  to  have  in  his 
hand  just  at  that  moment,  and  hurrahed.  It  was 
quite  a  wonder  to  him  afterward  that  he  did  not. 

As  a  class,  boys  are  supposed  to  be  generous.  I 
really  don't  know  whether  they  deserve  to  be  con- 
sidered so  or  not,  but  some  four  or  five  only  in 
this  large  school  envied  Fred.  The  rest  would 
.probably  have  hurrahed  with  him ;  for  Fred  was  a 
"capital  good  fellow,"  and  quite  a  favorite. 

"  Bully  for  you !"  whispered  Ned  Brown,  his 
right-hand  neighbor ;  but  Ned  was  instantly  dis- 
graced, the  eye  of  the  teacher  catching  the  words 
AS  they  dropped  from  his  lips. 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE.  257 

When  school  was  over  several  of  the  boys  rushed 
to  the  spot  where  Fred — his  cap  in  his  hand,  and 
his  dark  hair  blowing  about  every  way — was 
standing. 

"I  say,"  said  James  Duncan,  "I  thought  you 
would  get  it.  You've  worked  like  a  Trojan  and 
you  deserve  it." 

"It's  as  good  as  getting  the  valedictory,"  said 
Joe  Stone. 

"And  that  is  entering  into  any  college  in  the 
land  without  an  examination,"  said  Peter  Crane. 

Now  Peter  had  run  shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
Fred  and  it  does  him  great  credit  that,  being 
beaten,  he  was  thoroughly  good-natured  about  it. 

"  I  say,  Fred,  you  ought  to  treat  for  this ;"  and 
Noah  Holmes,  standing  on  tiptoe,  looked  over  the 
heads  of  the  other  boys  significantly  at  Fred. 

"  I  wish  I  could ;  but  here's  all  the  money  I've 
got,"  said  Fred,  taking  about  twenty-five  cents  from 
his  pocket — all  that  was  left  of  his  monthly  allow- 
ance. 

"That's  better  than  nothing.  It  will  buy  an 
apple  apiece.  Come  on !  Let's  go  down  to  old 
Granger's.  I  saw  some  apples  there  big  as  your 
head;  and  bigger,  too,"  said  Noah,  with  a  droll 
wink. 

"Well,  come  on,  then;"  and  away  went  the  boys 
at  Fred's  heels,  pushing  and  shouting,  laughing  and 
frolicking,  until  they  came  to  Abel  Granger's  little 
grocery. 

"  Now  hush  up,  you  fellows,"  said  Noah,  turning 


258  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

round  upon  them.  "Let  Fred  go  in  by  himself. 
Old  Grange  can't  abide  a  crowd  and  noise.  It  will 
make  him  cross,  and  aU  we  shall  get  will  be  the 
specked  and  worm-eaten  ones.  Come,  fall  back, 
there !" 

Very  quietly  and  obediently  the  boys,  who  always 
knew  their  leader,  fell  back,  and  Fred  went  into 
the  little  dark  grocery  alone. 

He  ^>^as  so  pleasant  and  gentlemanly  that,  let  him 
go  where  he  would  and  do  what  he  would,  in  some 
mysterious  way  he  always  found  the  right  side  of 
people  and  got  what  he  wanted,  in  the  most  satis- 
factory manner. 

Now  Abel  Granger  was  "  as  cross  as  a  meat  axe," 
Noah  said,  and  all  the  boys  were  afraid  of  him.  If 
the  apples  had  been  anywhere  else  they  would 
have  been  much  surer  of  their  treat ;  but  in  spite  of 
their  fears,  back  came  Fred  in  a  few  moments,  with 
a  heaping  measure  of  nice  red  apples — apples  that 
made  the  boys'  mouths  water. 

Fred  said  that  old  Abel  had  given  him  as  near  a 
smile  as  could  come  to  his  yellow,  wrinkled  face. 

"Treat 'em,"  he  said,  "treat 'em,  eh?  Wal,  now, 
'pears  likely  they'd  eat  you  out  of  house  and  home. 
I  never  see  a  boy  yet  that  couldn't  go  through  a 
tenpenny  nail,  easy  as  not." 

"  We  are  always  hungry,  I  believe,"  said  Fred. 

"  Allers,  allers — that's  a  fact,"  picking  out  the 
best  apples  as  he  spoke  and  heaping  up  the  measure. 
"  There,  now  if  you'll  find  a  better  lot  than  that,  for 
the  money,  you  are  welcome  to  it,  that's  all." 


FBEB  SARGENT'S  RHJVENGE.  259 

"Couldn't  do  it.  Thank  you  very  much,"  said 
Fred. 

As  the  boys  took  the  apples  eagerly  and  began  to 
bite  them,  they  saw  tlie  old  face  lookmg  out  of  the 
dirtv  panes  of  window  glass  upon  them. 

Fred  loved  to  make  everybody  happy  around 
him,  and  this  treating  was  only  second  best  to  lead- 
ing his  class ;  so  when,  at  the  corner  of  the  street 
turning  to  his  father's  house,  he  parted  from  his 
young  companions,  I  doubt  whether  there  was  a 
)iappier  boy  in  all  Andrewsville, 

I  do  not  think  we  shall  blame  him  very  much  if 
he  unconsciously  carried  his  head  pretty  high  and 
looked  proudly  happy. 

Out  from  under  the  low  archway  leading  to  Bill 
Orandon's  house  a  boy  about  as  tall  as  Fred,  but 
stout  and  coarse,  in  ragged  clothes,  stood  staring  up 
and  dov/n  the  street  as  Fred  came  toward  him. 

Something  in  Fred's  looks  and  manner  seemed 
especially  to  displease  him.  He  moved  directly  into 
the  middle  of  the  sidewalk,  and  squared  himself  as 
if  for  a  fight. 

There  was  no  other  boy  in  town  whom  Fred  dis- 
liked so  much,  and  of  whom  he  felt  so  afraid. 

Sam  Crandon,  everybody  knew,  was  a  bully.  He 
treated  boys  who  were  larger  and  stronger  than 
himself  civilly,  but  was  cruel  and  domineering  over 
the  poor  and  weak. 

So  far  in  his  life,  though  they  met  often,  Fred  had 
avoided  coming  into  contact  with  Sam,  and  Sam 
had  seemed  to  feel  just  a  little  awe  of  him  ;  for  Mr, 


260  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

Sargent  was  one  of  the  wealthiest  leading  men  in 
town,  and  Sam,  in  spite  of  himself,  found  something 
in  the  handsome,  gentlemanly  boy  that  held  him  in 
check;  but  to-day  Sam's  father  had  just  beaten  him, 
and  the  boy  was  smarting  from  the  blows. 

I  dare  say  he  was  hungry,  and  uncomfortable 
from  many  other  causes ;  but  however  this  may 
have  been,  he  felt  in  the  mood  for  making  trouble  ; 
for  seeing  somebody  else  unhappy  beside  himself. 
This  prosperous,  well-dressed  boy,  with  his  books 
under  his  arm,  and  his  happy  face,  was  the  first 
person  he  had  come  across— and  here  then  was  his 
opportunity. 

Fred  saw  him  assume  the  attitude  of  a  prize 
fighter  and  knew  what  it  meant,  Sam  had  a  cut, 
red  and  swollen,  across  one  cheek,  and  this  helped 
to  make  his  unpleasant  face  more  ugly  and  lowering 
than  usual. 

What  was  to  be  done?  To  turn  and  run  never 
occurred  to  Fred.  To  meet  him  and  fight  it  out 
was  equally  impossible ;  so  Fred  stopped  and  looked 
at  him  irresolutely. 

"  You're  afraid  of  a  licking  ?"  asked  Sam,  grinning 
ominously. 

"  I  don't  want  to  fight,"  said  Fred,  quietly. 

"No  more  you  don't,  but  you've  got  to." 

Fred's  blood  began  to  rise.  The  words  and  looks 
of  the  rough  boy  were  a  little  too  much  for  his 
temper. 

"■'  Move  out  of  the  way,"  he  said,  walking  directly 
up  to  him. 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE.  ogi 

Sam  hesitated  for  a  moment.  The  steady,  honest, 
bold  look  in  Fred's  eyes  was  far  more  effective  than 
a  blow  would  have  been  ;  but  as  soon  as  Fred  had 
passed  him  he  turned  and  struck  him  a  quick,  sting- 
ing blow  between  his  shoulders. 

"  That's  mean,"  said  Fred,  wheeling  round. 
''  Strike  fair  and  in  front  if  you  want  to,  but  don't 
hit  in  the  back — that's  a  coward's  trick." 

"  Take  it  there,  then,"  said  Sam.  aiming  a  heavy 
blow  at  Fred's  breast.  But  the  latter  skillfully 
raised  his  bool<B,  and  Sam's  knuckles  were  the  worse 
for  the  encounter. 

"  Hurt,  did  it  V'  said  Fred,  laughing. 

"  What  if  it  did  r 

''  Say  quits,  then." 

"  Not  by  a  good  deal ;"  and  in  spite  of  himself 
Fred  w^as  dragged  into  an  ignominious  street 
fight. 

Oh,  how  grieved  and  mortified  he  was  when  his 
father,  coming  down  the  street,  saw  and  called  to 
him.  Hearing  his  voice  Sam  ran  away  and  Fred, 
bruised  and  smarting,  with  his  books  torn  and  his 
clothes,  too,  went  over  to  his  father. 

Not  a  word  did  Mr.  Sargent  say.  He  took  Fred's 
hand  in  his,  and  the  two  walked  silently  to  theii 
home. 

I  doubt  whether  Mr.  Sargent  was  acting  wisely. 
Fred  never  had  told  him  an  untruth  in  his  life,  and 
a  few  words  now  miglit  have  set  matters  right. 
But  to  this  roughness  in  boys  Mr.  Sargent  had  a 
special  aversion.     He  had  so  often  taken  pains  to 


262  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

instill  its  impropriety  and  vulgarity  into  Fred's  mind 
that  he  could  not  now  imagine  an  excuse. 

"  He  should  not  have  done  so  under  any  circum 
stances,"  said  his  father  sternly,  to  himself.  "  I  am 
both  surprised  and  shocked,  and  the  punishment 
must  be  severe." 

Unfortunately  for  Fred,  his  mother  was  out  of 
town  for  a  few  days — a  mother  so  much  sooner  than 
a  father  reaches  the  heart  of  her  son — so  now  his 
father  said : 

"  You  will  keep  your  room  for  the  next  week.  I 
shall  send  your  excuse  to  your  teacher.  Ellen  will 
bring  your  meals  to  you.  At  the  end  of  that  time  I 
will  see  and  talk  with  you." 

Without  a  word  Fred  hung  his  cap  upon  its  nail, 
and  went  to  his  room.     Such  a  sudden  change  from 
success  and  elation  to  shame  and  condign  punish 
ment  was  too  much  for  him. 

He  felt  confused  and  bewildered.  Things  looked 
dark  around  him,  and  the  great  boughs  of  the 
J^Torway  spruce,  close  up  by  his  window,  nodded  and 
winked  at  him  in  a  very  odd  way. 

He  had  been  often  reproved,  and  sometimes  had 
received  a  slight  punishment,  but  never  anything 
like  this.  And  now  he  felt  innocent,  or  rather  at  first 
he  did  not  feel  at  all,  everything  was  so  strange 
and  unreal. 

He  heard  Ellen  come  into  his  room  after  a  few 
minutes  with  his  dinner,  but  he  did  not  turn. 

A  cold  numbing  sense  of  disgrace  crept  over 
him.  He  felt  as  if,  even  before  this  Irish  girl,  he 
could  never  hold  up  his  head  again. 


FRED  8 A  EG  ENT  'S  E  K  VENO  E.  263 

He  did  not  wish  to  eat  or  do  anything.  What 
could  it  all  mean  ? 

Slowly  the  whole  position  in  which  he  was  placed 
came  to  him.  The  boys  gathering  at  school ;  the 
surprise  with  which  his  absence  would  be  noted ; 
the  lost  honor,  so  lately  won  :  his  father's  sad,  grave 
face ;  his  sisters'  unhappiness  ;  his  mother's  sorrow  ; 
and  even  Sam's  face,  so  ugly  in  its  triumph,  all  were 
there. 

What  an  afternoon  that  was !  How  slowly  the 
long  hours  dragged  themselves  away !  And  yet 
until  dusk  Fred  bore  up  bravely.  Then  he  leaned 
his  head  on  his  hands.  Tired,  hungry,  worn  out 
with  sorrow,  he  burst  into  tears  and  cried  like  a 
baby. 

Don't  blame  him.  I  think  any  one  of  us  would 
have  done  the  same. 

"  Oil,  mother !  mother !"  said  Fred  aloud,  to  him- 
self, "do  come  home!  do  come  home!" 

Ellen  looked  very  sympathizing  when  she  came 
in  with  his  tea,  and  found  his  dinner  untouched. 

"  Eat  your  tea,  Master  Fred,"  she  said,  gently. 
"  The  like  of  ye  can't  go  without  your  victuals,  no 
way.  I  don't  know  what  you've  done,  but  I  ain't 
afeared  there  is  any  great  harm  in  it,  though  your 
collar  is  on  crooked  and  there's  a  tear  in  your  jacket, 
to  say  nothing  of  a  black  and  blue  place  under  3'our 
left  eye.  But  eat  your  tea.  Here's  some  fruit 
cake  Biddy  sent  o'  purpose." 

Somebody  did  think  of  and  feel  sorry  for  him ! 
Fred  felt  comforted  on  the  instant  b}''  Ellen's  kind 


364  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

words  and  Biddy's  plum  cake;  and  I  must  say,  ate 
a  hearty,  hungry  boy's  supper ;  then  went  to  bed 
and  slept  soundly  until  late  the  next  morning. 

"We  have  not  space  to  follow  Fred  through  the 
tediousness  of  the  following  week.  His  father 
strictly  carried  out  the  punishment  to  the  letter. 
No  one  came  near  him  but  Ellen,  though  he  heard 
the  voices  of  his  sisters  and  the  usual  happy  home 
sounds  constantly  about  him. 

Had  Fred  really  been  guilty,  even  in  the  matter 
of  a  street  fight,  he  would  have  been  the  unhappiest 
boy  living  during  this  time ;  but  we  know  he  was 
not,  so  we  shall  be  glad  to  hear  that  with  his  books 
and  the  usual  medley  of  playthings  with  which  a 
boy's  room  is  piled,  he  contrived  to  make  the  tune 
pass  without  being  very  wretched.  It  was  the  dis- 
grace of  being  punished,  the  lost  position  in  school, 
and  above  all,  the  triumph  which  it  would  be  to 
Sam,  which  made  him  the  most  miserable.  The 
very  injustice  of  the  thing  was  its  balm  in  this  case. 
May  it  be  so,  my  young  readers,  with  any  punish- 
ment which  may  ever  happen  to  you ! 

All  these  things,  however,  were  opening  the  way 
to  make  Fred's  revenge,  when  it  came,  the  more 
complete. 


Fred  Sargent,  of  course,  had  lost  his  place,  and 
was  subjected  to  a  great  man}^  curious  inquiries 
when  he  returned  to  school. 

He  had  done  his  best,  in  his  room,  to  keep  up 
^Wth  his  class,  but  his  books,  studied  "  in  prison,' '  as 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE.  265 

he  had  learned  to  call  it,  and  in  the  sitting-room, 
with  his  sister  Xellie  and  his  mother  to  help  him, 
were  very  different  things.  Still,  "  doing  your  best " 
always  brings  its  reward;  and  let  me  say  in  passing, 
before  the  close  of  the  month  Fred  had  won  his 
place  again. 

This  was  more  easily  done  than  satisfying  the 
kind  inquiries  of  the  boys.  So  after  trying  the 
first  day  to  evade  them,  Fred  made  a  clean  breast 
of  it  and  told  the  whole  story. 

I  think,  perhaps,  Mr.  Sargent's  severe  and  unjust 
discipline  had  a  far  better  effect  upon  the  boys 
generally  than  upon  Fred  particularly.  They  did 
not  know  how  entirely  Fred  had  acted  on  the 
defensive,  and  so  they  received  a  lesson  which  most 
of  them  never  forgot  on  the  importance  which  a 
kind,  genial  man,  with  a  smile  and  a  cheery  word 
for  every  child  in  town,  attached  to  brawling. 

After  all,  the  worst  effect  of  this  punishment 
came  upon  Sam  Crandon  himself.  Yery  much  dis- 
liked as  his  wicked  ways  had  made  him  before,  he 
was  now  considered  as  a  town  nuisance.  Everybody 
avoided  him,  and  when  forced  to  speak  to  him  did 
so  in  the  coldest,  and  often  in  the  most  unkind 
manner. 

Sam,  not  three  weeks  after  his  wanton  assault 
upon  Fred,  was  guilty  of  his  first  theft  and  of 
drinking  his  first  glass  of  liquor.  In  short,  he  was 
going  headlong  to  destruction  and  no  one  seemed 
to  think  him  worth  the  saving.  Skulking  by  day, 
prowling    by    night — hungry,    dirty,    beaten    and 


266  THIi:  ERRAND  BOY. 

sworn  at — no  wonder  that  be  seemed   God-forsaken 
as  well  as  man-forsaken. 

Mr.  Sargent  had  a  large  store  in  Eutgers  street. 
He  was  a  wholesale  dealer  in  iron  ware,  and 
Andre wsville  was  such  an  honest,  quiet  town 
ordinarj^  means  were  not  taken  to  keep  the  goods 
from  the  hands  of  thieves. 

Back  doors,  side  doors  and  front  doors  stood  open 
all  the  day,  and  no  one  went  in  or  out  but  those 
who  had  dealings  with  the  firm. 

Suddenly,  however,  articles  began  to  be  missed — a 
package  of  knives,  a  bolt,  a  hatchet,  an  axe,  a  pair 
of  skates,  Hat-irons,  knives  and  forks,  indeed  hardly 
a  day  passed  without  a  new  thing  being  taken,  and 
though  every  clerk  in  the  store  was  on  the  alert 
and  very  watchful,  still  the  thief,  or  thieves, 
remained  undetected. 

At  last  matters  grew  very  serious.  It  was  not  so 
much  the  pecuniary  value  of  the  losses — that  was 
never  large — but  the  uncertainty  into  which  it 
threw  Mr,  Sargent.  The  dishonest  person  might  be 
one  of  his  own  trusted  clerks ;  such  things  had 
happened,  and  sad  to  say,  probably  would  again 

"Fred,"  said  his  father,  one  Saturday  afternooE 
"  I  should  like  to  have  you  come  down  to  the  store 
and  watch  in  one  of  the  rooms.  There  is  a  great 
run  of  business  to-day,  and  the  clerks  have  their 
hands  more  than  full.  I  must  find  out,  if  possible, 
who  it  is  that  is  stealing  so  freely.  Yesterday  I 
lost  six  pearl-handled  knives  worth  two  dollars 
apiece.     Can  you  come  V 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE.  267 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Fred,  promptly,  ''  1  will  be  there 
at  one,  to  a  minute  ;  and  if  I  catch  him,  let  him  look 
out  sharp,  that  is  all." 

This  acting  as  police  officer  was  new  business  to 
Fred  and  made  him  feel  very  important,  so  when 
the  town  clock  was  on  the  stroke  of  one  he  entered 
the  store  and  began  his  patrol. 

It  was  fun  for  the  first  hour,  and  he  was  so  much 
on  the  alert  that  old  Mr.  Stone,  from  his  high  stool 
before  the  desk,  had  frequently  to  put  his  pen  behind 
his  ear  and  watch  him.  It  was  quite  a  scene  in  a 
play  to  see  how  Fred  would  start  at  the  least 
sound.  A  mouse  nibbling  behind  a  box  of  iron 
chains  made  him  beside  hi-mself  until  he  had  scared 
the  little  gray  thing  from  its  hole,  and  saw  it 
scamper  away  out  of  the  shop.  But  after  the  first 
hour  the  watching  for  nothing  became  a  little 
tedious.  There  was  a  "  splendid "  game  of  base 
ball  to  come  off  on  the  public  green  that  afternoon  ; 
and  after  that  the  boys  were  going  to  the  "  Shaw- 
seen"  for  a  swim ;  then  there  was  to  be  a  picnic  on 
the  "  Indian  Ridge,"  and — well,  Fred  had  thought 
of  all  these  losses  when  he  so  pleasantly  assented  to 
his  father's  request,  and  he  was  not  going  to  com- 
plain now.  He  sat  down  on  a  box,  and  commenced 
drumming  tunes  with  his  heels  on  its  sides.  This 
disturbed  Mr.  Stone.  He  looked  at  him  sharply,  so 
he  stopped  and  sauntered  out  into  a  corner  of  the 
back  store,  where  there  was  a  trap-door  leading 
down  into  the  w^ater.  A  small  river  ran  b}^  under 
the  end  of  the  store,  also  by  the  depot,  which  was 


268  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

near  at  hand,  and  his  father  used  to  have  some  of 
his  goods  brought  down  in  boats  and  hoisted  up 
through  this  door. 

It  was  always  one  of  the  most  interesting  places 
in  the  store  to  Fred  ;  he  liked  to  sit  with  his  feet 
hanging  down  over  the  water,  watching  it  as  it 
oame  in  and  dashed  against  the  cellar  walls. 

To-day  it  was  high,  and  a  smart  breeze  drove  it  in 
with  unusual  force.  Bending  down  as  far  as  he 
-could  safely  to  look  under  the  store,  Fred  saw  the 
end  of  a  hatchet  sticking  out  from  the  corner  of  one 
jf  the  abutments  that  projected  from  the  cellar,  to 
support  the  end  of  the  store  in  which  the  trap-door 
was. 

"  What  a  curious  place  this  is  for  a  hatchet !" 
thought  Fred,  as  he  stooped  a  little  further,  holding 
on  very  tight  to  the  floor  above.  What  he  saw 
made  him  almost  lose  his  hold  and  drop  into  the 
water  below.  There,  stretched  along  on  a  beam, 
was  Sam  Crandon,  with  some  stolen  packages  near 
him. 

For  a  moment  Fred's  astonishment  was  too  great 
to  allow  him  to  speak  ;  and  Sam  glared  at  him  like 
a  wild  beast  brought  suddenly  to  bay. 

"  Oh,  Sam !  Sam !"  said  Fred,  at  length,  "  how 
could  you  ?" 

Sam  caught  up  a  hatchet  and  locked  as  if  he  was 
going  to  aim  it  at  him,  then  suddenly  dropped  it 
into  the  water. 

Fred's  heart  beat  fast,  and  the  blood  came  and 
went  from  his  cheeks  ;  he  caught  his  breath  heavily, 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE.  269 

and  the  water,  the  abutment  and  even  Sam  with  his 
wicked  ugly  face  were  for  a  moment  darkened. 
Then,  recovering  himself,  he  said  : 

"  Was  it  you,  Sam  ?     I'm  sorry  for  you !" 

"Don't  lie!"  said  Sam,  glowering  back,  "you 
know  you're  glad  I" 

"Glad?  Why  should  I  be  glad  to  have  you 
steal?" 

"  Cause  I  licked  you,  and  you  caught  it." 

"  So  I  did  ;  but  I  am  sorry,  for  all  that." 

"  You  lie !" 

Fred  had  thought  very  fast  while  this  conversation 
was  going  on.  He  had  only  to  lift  his  head  and 
call  his  father,  then  the  boat  would  be  immediately 
pushed  in  under  the  store,  Sam  secured  and  his 
punishment  certain.  There  w^ere  stolen  goods 
enough  to  convict  him,  and  his  mode  of  ingress  into 
the  store  w^as  now  certain.  This  trap-door  was 
never  locked ;  very  often  it  was  left  open — the 
water  being  considered  the  most  effectual  bolt  and 
bar  that  could  be  used ;  but  Sam,  a  good  swimmer 
and  climber,  had  come  in  without  difficulty  and  had 
quite  a  store  of  his  o\vn  hidden  away  there  for  future 
use.  This  course  was  very  plain  ;  but  for  some 
reason,  which  Fred  could  not  explain  even  to  him- 
self, he  did  not  feel  inclined  to  take  it ;  so  he  sat 
looking  steadily  in  Sam's  face  until  he  said  : 

"  Look  here,  Sam,  I  want  to  show  you  I  mean 
what  I  say.  I'm  sorry  you  have  turned  thief  and 
if  I  can  help  you  to  be  a  better  boy,  I  should  be 
oflad  to." 


370  THE  ERRAND  BOT. 

Again  Fred's  honest  kindly  face  had  the  same 
effect  upon  Sam  that  it  had  at  the  commencement 
of  their  street  fight ;  he  respected  and  trusted  it 
unconsciously. 

"  Here !"  said  he,  crawling  along  on  the  beam  and 
handing  back  the  package  of  knives,  the  last  theft 
of  which  his  father  had  complained. 

"  Yes,  that  is  right,"  said  Fred,  leaning  down  and 
taking  it,  "  give  them  all  back,  if  you  can ;  that  is 
what  my  father  calls  'making  restitution,'  and 
then  you  won't  be  a  thief  any  longer." 

Something  in  the  boy's  tone  touched  Sam's  heart 
still  more ;  so  he  handed  back  one  thing  after 
another  as  rapidly  as  he  could  until  nearly  every- 
thing was  restored. 

"Bravo  for  you,  Sam!  I  won't  tell  who  took 
them,  and  there  is  a  chance  for  you.  Here,  give  me 
your  hand  now,  honor  bright  you'll  never  come 
here  again  to  steal,  if  I  don't  tell  my  father." 

Sam  looked  at  him  a  moment,  as  if  he  would  read 
his  very  soul ;  then  he  said  sulkily  : 

"  You'll  tell ;  I  know  you  will,  'cause  I  licked  you 
when  you  didn't  want  me  to ;  but  you've  got  'em 
all  back,  and  I  s'pose  it  won't  go  very  hard." 

"  What  won't  go  very  hard  ?" 

"  The  prison." 

"  You  sha'n't  go  to  prison  at  all.  Here,  give  me 
your  hand ;  I  promise  not  to  tell  if  you  will  promise 
not  to  steal  any  more.     Ain't  that  fair?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Sam,  a  sudden  change  coming  over 
his  face,  "  but  you  will !" 


FRED  SARGENT'S  REVENGE.  271 

"  Try  me  and  see." 

Sam.  slowly  and  reaUy  at  a  great  deal  of  peril, 
considering  his  situation,  put  his  rough,  grimed  hand 
into  Fred's — a  dishonest  hand  it  was,  and  that  more 
than  the  other  thing  made  Fred  recoil  a  little  as  he 
touched  it;  but  that  clasp  sealed  the  compact 
between  these  two  boys.  It  began  Fred  Sargent's 
revenge. 

"  Now  be  off,  will  you,  before  the  clerks  come  ? 
They  will  see  the  things  and  catch  you  here.  I'll 
be  round  to  your  house  soon  and  we  will  see." 

Even  in  this  short  time  Fred  had  formed  a 
general  plan  for  saving  Sam. 

The  boy,  stretching  himself  out  flat,  slipped  down 
the  tran verse  beam  into  the  water,  dived  at  once 
and  came  up  under  the  bridge  a  few  rods  distant, 
then  coolly  passed  down  the  river  and  swam  to  shore 
under  a  bunch  of  alder-bushes,  by  which  he  was 
concealed  from  the  sight  of  the  passers-by. 

Fred  sought  his  father,  told  him  the  story,  then 
brought  him  to  the  spot,  showed  the  goods  which 
the  boy  had  returned,  and  begged  as  a  reward  for 
the  discovery  to  be  allowed  to  conceal  his  name. 

His  father  of  course  hesitated  at  so  unusual  a 
proposition ;  but  there  was  something  so  very  much 
in  earnest  in  all  Fred  did  and  said  that  he  became 
convinced  it  was  best,  for  the  present  at  least,  to 
allow  bim  to  have  his  own  way :  and  this  he  was 
very  glad  he  had  done  when  a  few  days  after  Fred 
asked  him  to  do  something  for  Sam  Crandon. 

"  Sam  Crandon  ?"  he  asked  in  surprise.     "  Is  not 


2T^  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

that  the  very  boy  I  found  you  fighting  in  the  street 
with?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Fred,  hanging  his  head,  ''  but  he 
promises  to  do  well,  if  he  can  only  find  work — 
honest  work  ;  you  see,  sir,  he  is  so  bad  nobody  helps 
him." 

Mr,  Saro-ent  smiled.  "A  strang-e  recommenda- 
tion,  Fred,"  he  said,  "  but  I  will  try  what  can  be 
done.  A  boy  who  wants  to  reform  should  have  a 
helping  hand." 

"  He  does  want  to — he  wants  to  heartily  ;  he  says 
he  does.     Father,  if  you  only  will !" 

Fred,  as  he  stood  there,  his  whole  face  lit  up  with 
the  glow  of  this  generous,  noble  emotion,  never  was 
dearer  to  his  father's  heart ;  indeed  his  father's  eyes 
were  dim,  and  his  voice  a  little  husky,  as  he  said 
again : 

"  I  will  look  after  him,  Fred,  for  your  sake." 

And  so  he  did  ;  but  where  and  how  I  have  not 
space  now  to  tell  my  readers.  Perhaps,  at  some 
future  time,  I  may  finish  this  story ;  for  the  present 
let  me  say  there  is  a  new  boy  in  Mr.  Sargent's 
store,  with  rough,  coarse  face,  voice  and  manners ; 
everybody  wonders  at  seeing  him  there ;  everybody 
prophesies  future  trouble ;  but  nobody  knows  that 
this  step  up  in  Sam  Crandon's  life  is  Fred  Sargent's 
revenge. 


THE  SMUGGLER'S  TRAP. 


HUBERT  had  accompanied  his  father  on  a  visit 
to  his  uncle,  who  lived  in  a  fine  old  country 
mansion,  on  the  shore  of  Caermarthen  Bay. 

In  front  of  the  house  spread  a  long  beach,  which 
terminated  in  precipitous  cliffs  and  rocky  ledges. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  day  following  his  arrival,, 
he  declared  his  intention  of  exploring  the  beach. 

"  Don't  get  caught  in  '  The  Smuggler's  Trap,'  '^ 
said  his  uncle,  as  he  mentioned  his  plan. 

"  '  The  Smuggler's  Trap  V  " 

"  Yes.  It's  at  the  end  of  the  beach  where  you 
see  the  cliffs.  It's  a  hollow  cave,  which  you  can 
only  walk  at  very  low  tide.  You'd  better  not  go  in 
there." 

"  Oh,  never  fear,"  said  Hubert  carelessly,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  he  was  wandering  over  the  beach,  and 
after  walking  about  two  miles  reached  the  end  of 
the  beach  at  the  base  of  the  great  cliffs. 

The  precipice  towered  frowningly  overhead,  its 
base  all  worn  and  furrowed  by  the  furious  surges 
that  for  ages  had  dashed  against  it.  All  around  lay 
a  chaos  of  huge  boulders  covered  with  seaweed. 
The  tide  was  now  at  the  lowest  ebb.  The  surf  here 
was  moderate,  for  the  seaweed  on  the  rocks  inter- 


274  THE  ERRAND  BOY. 

fered  with  the  swell  of  the  waters,  and  the  waves 
broke  outside  at  some  distance. 

Between  the  base  of  the  precipice  and  the  edge  of 
the  water  there  was  a  space  left  dry  by  the  ebb 
tide,  about  two  yards  in  width  ;  and  Hubert  walked 
forward  over  the  space  thus  uncovered  to  see  what 
lay  before  him. 

He  soon  found  himself  in  a  place  which  seemed 
like  a  fissure  rent  in  a  mountain  side,  by  some 
extraordinary  convulsion  of  nature.  All  around 
rose  black,  precipitous  cliffs.  On  the  side  nearest 
was  the  precipice  by  whose  base  he  had  passed ; 
while  over  opposite  was  a  gigantic  wall  of  dark  rock, 
which  extended  far  out  into  the  sea.  Huge  waves 
thundered  at  its  feet  and  dashed  their  spray  far  up- 
ward into  the  air.  The  space  was  about  fifty  yards 
across. 

The  fissure  extended  back  for  about  two  hundred 
yards,  and  there  terminated  in  a  sharp  angle  formed 
by  the  abrupt  walls  of  the  cliffs  which  enclosed  it. 
All  around  there  were  caverns  worn  into  the  base 
of  the  precipices  by  the  action  of  the  sea. 

The  floor  of  this  place  was  gravelly,  but  near  the 
water  it  was  strewn  with  large  boulders.  Further 
in  there  were  no  boulders  and  it  was  easy  to  walk 
about. 

At  the  furthest  extremity  there  was  a  flat  rock 
that  seemed  to  have  fallen  from  the  cliff  above  in 
some  former  age.  The  cliffs  around  were  about  two 
hundred  feet  in  height.  They  were  perfectly  bare, 
and  intensely  black.     On  their  storm-riven  summits 


THE  SMUGGLER'S  TRAP.  ^t'ld 

not  a  sign  of  verdure  appeared.  Everything  had 
the  aspect  or  gloom,  which  was  heightened  by  the 
mournful  monotone  of  the  sea  waves  as  they  dashed 
against  the  rock. 

After  the  first  feeling  of  awe  had  passed,  Hubert 
ran  forward,  leaping  from  rock  to  rock,  till  he  came 
to  where  the  beach  or  floor  of  the  fissure  was 
gravelly.  Over  this  he  walked  and  hastened  to  the 
caverns,  looking  into  them  one  after  another. 

Then  he  busied  himself  by  searching  among  the 
pebbles  for  curious  stones  and  shells.  He  found 
here  numerous  specimens  of  the  rarest  and  finest 
treasures  of  the  sea — shells  of  a  delicacy  of  tint 
and  perfection  of  outline ;  seaweeds  of  new  and 
exquisite  forms  with  rich  hues  which  he  had  hitherto 
believed  impossible. 

In  the  hollows  of  the  rocks,  where  the  water  yet 
lay  in  pools,  he  found  little  minnows ;  and  delicate 
jelly  fish,  with  their  long  slender  fibers ;  and  sea 
anemones ;  and  sea  urchins  with  their  spires  ex- 
tended ;  and  star-fish  moving  about  with  their 
innumerable  creepers.  It  was  a  new  world,  a  world 
which  had  thus  far  been  only  visible  to  him  in  the 
aquarium,  and  now  as  it  stood  before  him  he  forgot 
all  else. 

He  did  not  feel  the  wind  as  it  blew  in  fresh  from 
ihe  sea — the  dread  "sou'wester,"  the  terror  of 
fishermen.  He  did  not  notice  the  waves  that  rolled 
in  more  furiously  from  without,  and  were  now 
beginning  to  break  in  wrath  upon  the  rocky  ledges 
and  boulders.     He  did  not  see  that  the  water  had 


276  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

crept  on  nearer  to  the  cliff,  and  that  a  white  line  of 
foam  now  lay  on  that  narrow  belt  of  beach  which 
he  had  traversed  at  the  foot  of  the  cliff. 

Suddenly  a  sound  burst  upon  his  ears  that  roused 
him,  and  sent  all  the  blood  back  to  his  heart.  It 
was  his  own  name,  called  out  in  a  voice  of  anguish 
and  almost  of  despair  by  his  father. 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  started  forward  and  rushed 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind  to  the  place  by  which 
he  had  entered  the  enclosure.  But  a  barrier  lay 
before  him..  The  rolling  waves  were  there,  rushing 
in  over  the  rocks,  dashing  against  the  cliff,  tossing 
their  white  and  quivering  spray  exultmg  in  the  air. 

At  once  Hubert  knew  his  danger. 

He  was  caught  in  the  "  Smuggler's  Trap,"  and  the 
full  meaning  of  his  uncle's  warning  flashed  upon  his 
mind  as  in  his  terror  he  shrieked  back  to  his  father. 

Then  there  was  silence  for  a  time. 

While  Hubert  had  been  in  the  "  Trap,"  his  father 
and  uncle  had  been  walking  along  the  beach,  and 
the  former  heard  for  the  first  time  the  nature  and 
danger  of  the  "  Smuggler's  Trap."  He  was  at  once 
tilled  with  anxiety  about  his  son,  and  had  hurried 
to  the  place  to  call  him  back,  when  to  his  horror  he 
found  that  the  tide  had  already  covered  the  only 
way  by  which  the  dangerous  olace  might  be 
approached. 

JS^o  sooner  had  he  heard  Hubert's  answering  cry 
than  he  rushed  forward  to  try  and  save  him.  But 
the  next  moment  a  great  wave  came  rolling  in  and 
dashed  him  upon   the  cliff.     Terribly  bruised,    be 


THE  SMUGGLER'S  TRA  P.  277 

clung  to  the  cliff  till  the  surf  fell  bac  i,  and  then  ran 
on  again. 

He  slipped  over  a  rock  and  fell,  but  instantly 
regaining  his  feet  he  advanced  further,  and  in  his 
haste  fell  into  a  hollow  which  was  filled  with  water. 

Before  he  could  emerge  another  wave  was  upon 
him.  This  one  beat  him  down,  and  it  was  only  by 
clinging  to  the  seaweed  that  he  escaped  being 
sucked  back  by  the  retreating  surge.  Bold  and 
frenzied  though  he  was,  he  had  to  start  back  from 
the  fury  of  such  an  assault  as  this.  He  rushed  back- 
ward and  waited. 

His  eyes  searched  wildly  around.  He  noticed 
that  the  surf  grew  more  violent  every  moment,  and 
every  moment  took  away  hope.  But  he  would  not 
yield. 

Once  more  he  rushed  forward.  The  waves  rolled 
in,  but  he  grasped  the  rocks  and  withstood  the  surf, 
and  still  advanced.  Another  followed.  He  bov,^ed 
before  it,  and  clinging  to  the  rocks  as  before  came 
forth  triumphant. 

Already  he  was  nearly  halfway.  He  sprang  upon 
a  rock  that  rose  above  the  level  of  the  seething 
flood,  and  stood  for  a  moment  panting  and  gasping. 
But  now  a  great  wave  came  rolling  in  upon  him. 
He  fell  on  his  knees  and  clung  to  the  seaweed. 

The  wave  struck.  It  hurled  him  from  the  rock. 
He  rolled  over  and  over.  Blinded,  bruised  and  half 
drowned,  he  felt  himself  dashed  against  the  cliff. 
He  threw  his  arms  wildlv  about,  but  found  nothino- 
w^hich  he  could  seize.     The  retreating  wave  sucked 


278  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

him  back.  But  a  rock  stayed  him.  This  he  grasped 
and  was  saved. 

Then,  hastily  scrambling  to  his  feet,  he  staggered 
back  to  the  place  from  which  he  had  started. 
Before  he  could  get  back  another  wave  threw  him 
down,  and  this  time  he  might  have  been  drowned 
had  not  his  brother  plunged  in  and  dragged  him 
out. 

Of  all  this  Hubert  had  seen  nothing,  and  known 
nothing.  He  waited  for  some  time  in  silence,  and 
then  called.  There  was  no  answer.  He  called 
again  and  again.  But  at  that  time  his  father  was 
struggling  with  the  waves  and  did  not  hear  him. 
At  last,  after  what  seemed  an  interminable  time,  he 
heard  once  more  his  father's  voice.  He  shouted 
back. 

"  Don't  be  afraid !"  cried  the  voice.  "  I'll  get  you 
out.     Wait." 

And  then  there  were  no  more  voices. 

It  was  about  two  o'clock  when  Hubert  had 
entered  the  gorge.  It  was  after  three  when  his 
father  had  roused  him,  and  made  his  vain  effort  to 
save  him.  Hubert  was  now  left  alone  with  the 
rising  tide,  whose  waters  rolled  forward  with  fearful 
rapidity.  The  beach  inside  was  nearly  level  and  he 
saw  that  in  an  hour  or  so  it  would  be  covered  with 
the  waters.  He  tried  to  trust  to  his  father's  prom- 
ise, but  the  precious  moments  passed  and  he  began 
to  look  with  terror  upon  the  increasing  storm ;  for 
every  moment  the  w^ind  grew  fiercer,  and  the  surf 
rolled  in  with  ever  increasing  impetuosity. 


THE  SMUGGLERS  TRAP,  279 

He  looked  all  around  for  a  place  of  refuge,  and 
saw  nothing  except  the  rock  which  arose  at  the 
extremity  of  the  place,  at  the  foot  of  the  over- 
hanging cliffs.  It  was  about  five  feet  high,  and  was 
the  only  place  that  afforded  anything  lilvc  safety. 

Up  this  he  clambered,  and  from  this  he  could 
survey  the  scene,  but  only  to  perceive  the  full  extent 
of  his  danger.  For  the  tide  rushed  in  more  and 
more  swiftly,  the  surf  grew  higher  and  higher  and 
he  saw  plainly  that  before  long  the  water  Avould 
reach  the  summit  of  the  rock,  and  that  even  before 
then  the  surf  in  its  violence  would  sweep  him 
away. 

The  moments  passed  slowly.  Minutes  seemed  in 
his  suspense  to  be  transformed  to  hours.  The  sky 
was  overspread  now  with  black  clouds ;  and  the 
gloom  increased.  At  length  the  waves  rolled  in 
until  they  covered  all  the  beach  in  front,  and  began 
to  dash  against  the  rock  on  which  he  had  taken 
refuge. 

The  precious  moments  passed.  Higlier  and 
higher  grew  the  waters.  They  came  rolling  into 
the  cave,  urged  on  by  the  fury  of  the  billows  out- 
side, and  heaping  themselves  up  as  they  were  com- 
})ressed  into  this  narrow  gorge.  They  dashed  up 
around  the  rock.  The  spray  was  tossed  in  his  face. 
Already  he  felt  their  inexorable  grasp.  Death 
seemed  so  near  that  hope  left  him.  He  fell  upon 
his  knees  with  his  hands  clasped,  and  his  white  face 
upturned.  Just  then  a  great  wave  rolled  up  and 
flung  itself  over  the  rock,  and  over  his  knees  as  he 


280  THE  ERRAND  EOT. 

knelt,  and  over  his  hands  as  he  claspea  tnem  m 
prayer.  A  few  more  moments  and  all  would  be 
over. 

:  As  hope  left  a  calmness  came — the  calmness 
that  is  born  of  despair.  Face  to  face  with  death, 
he  had  tasted  the  bitterness  of  death,  but  now  he 
flung  aside  the  agony  of  his  fear  and  rose  to  his 
feet,  and  his  soul  prepared  itself  for  the  end.  Just 
then,  in  the  midst  of  the  uproar  of  wind  and  wave, 
there  came  a  sudden  sound,  which  roused  to  quick, 
feverish  throbs  the  young  lad's  heart.  It  was  a 
voice — and  sounded  just  above  him  : 

"  Hubert  r 

He  looked  up. 

There  far  above  him,  in  the  gloom,  he  saw  faces 
projecting  over  the  edge  of  the  cliif .  The  cry  came 
again;  he  recognized  the  voice  of  his  father. 

For  a  moment  Hubert  could  not  speak.  Hope 
returned.     He  threw  up  his  arms  wildly,  and  cried : 

"  Make  haste  !     Oh,  make  haste !" 

A  rope  was  made  fast  about  Hubert's  father,  and 
he  was  let  down  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff.  He 
would  allow  no  other  than  himself  to  undertake  this 
journey. 

He  had  hurried  away  and  gathered  a  number  of 
fishermen,  whose  stout  arms  and  sinewy  hands  now 
held  the  rope  by  which  he  descended  to  save  his 
son. 

It  was  a  perilous  journey.  The  wind  blew  and 
the  rope  swayed  more  and  more  as  it  was  let  down, 
and  sometimes  he  was  dashed  agrainst  the  rocky 


THE  SMUaO LEE'S  TRAP,  281 

sides  of  the  precipice ;  but  still  lie  descended,  and 
at  last  stood  on  the  rock  and  clasped  his  son  in  his 
arms. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  lose.  Hubert  mounted 
on  his  father's  shoulders,  holding  the  rope  while  his 
father  bound  his  boy  close  to  him.  Then  the  word 
was  given,  and  they  were  slowly  pulled  up. 

They  reached  the  summit  in  safety,  and  as  they 
reached  it  those  who  looked  down  through  ttie 
gloom  saw  the  white  foam  of  the  surf  as  it  boiled  in 
fury  over  the  rock  where  Hubert  had  been  standing 


/Km  L«  Burt's  Catalogue  of  Books  for 
Young  People  by  Popular  Writers,  52- 
58  Duane  Street,  New  York   '^   v^   >< 


BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 


Joe's  Luck:     A  Boy's  Adventures  in  California.    By 

Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  Sl.OO. 

The  storj  is  cbock  full  of  stlrrinK  incidents,  while  the  amuBine  sltu- 
Ations  are  furnished  by  Joshua  Bickford,  from  Pumpkin  lioUow,  and  the 
fellow  who  modestly  styles  himself  the  "Rip-tail  Roarer,  from  Pike  Co., 
Missouri."  Mr.  Al^er  never  writes  a  poor  book,  and  "Joe's  Luck"  is  cer- 
tainly one  of  his  best. 

Tom  the   Bootblack;  or.   The   Eoad   to   Success.     By 

HoRATTO  Alger,  Jr.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  §1.00. 

A  ^ight,  enterprising  lad  was  Tom  the  Bootblack.  Ho  was  not  at  all 
ashamed  of  his  humble  callinK,  though  always  on  the  lookout  to  better 
himself.  The  lad  started  for  Cincinnati  to  look  up  his  heritage.  Mr. 
Grey,  the  uncle,  did  not  hesitate  to  employ  a  ruffian  to  kill  the  lad.  Tha 
plan  failed,  and  Gilbert  Grey,  once  Tom  the  bootblack,  came  into  a  com- 
fortable  fortune.     This   is   one   of    Mr.    Alger's    best   stories, 

Dan  the  Newsboy.     By    Horatio    Alger,   Jr.    12nio, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  Sl-00. 

Dan  Mordaunt  and  his  mother  live  in  a  poor  tenement,  and  the  lad  is 
plucklly  trying  to  make  ends  meet  by  selling  papers  In  the  streets  of  New 
York.  A  little  heiress  of  six  years  is  confided  to  the  care  of  the  Slor- 
damits.  The  child  is  kidnapped  and  Dan  tracks  the  child  to  the  house 
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heiress  is  so  delighted  with  Dan'a  courage  and  many  good  iiuulities 
that    she    adopts    him    as    her   heir. 

Tony  the  Hero:     A    Brave    Boy's    Adventure  vrith  a 

Tramp.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    limo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  gl.OO. 

Tony,  a  sturdy  bright-eyed  boy  of  fourteen,  is  nnder  the  control  of 
Rudolph  Rugg,  a  thorough  rascal.  After  much  abuse  Tony  runs  away 
and  gets  a  job  as  stable  boy  in  a  country  hotel.  Tony  Is  heir  to  a 
large  estate.  Rudolph  for  a  considi-mtion  hunts  up  Tony  and  throws 
him  down  a  deep  well.  Of  course  Tony  escapes  from  the  fate  provided 
for  him,  and  by  a  brave  act,  a  rich  friend  secures  his  rights  and  Tony 
is    prosperous.     A    very    entertaining    book. 

The  Errand  Boy;  or,  How  Phil  Brent  Won  Success. 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.     12mo,  cloth  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

The  career  of  "The  Errand  Boy"  embraces  the  city  adventures  of  a 
•mart  country  lad.  Philip  was  brought  up  by  a  kind-hearted  innkeeper 
named  Brent.  The  death  of  Mrs.  Brent  paved  the  way  for  the  hero's 
Bubwquent  troubles.  A  retired  merchant  in  New  York  secures  him  the 
situation    of    errand    boy,    and    thereafter    stands    as    his    friend. 

Tom  Temple's  Career.     By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.     13mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  §1.00. 

Tom  Temple  is  a  bright,  self-reliant  lad.  He  leaves  Plympton  village 
to  seek  work  in  New  York,  whence  he  undertakes  an  important  mission 
to  California.  Some  of  his  adventures  in  the  far  west  are  so  startling  that 
the  reader  will  scarcely  close  the  book  until  the  last  page  shall  have  been 
reached.     The  tale  is  written  in  Mr.  Alger's  most  fascinating  style. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BTJBT,  62-58  Duane  Street,   New  York. 


2  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

Frank  Fowler,  the  Cash  Boy.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr. 

32mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

FraDk  Fowler,  a  poor  bii.T,  bravely  determines  to  make  a  living  for 
himself  and  his  foster-sister  Grace.  GoinE  to  New  York  he  obtains  a 
situation  as  cash  boy  in  a  dry  goods  store.  He  renders  a  service  to  a 
vsrealthy  old  gentleman  who  takes  a  fancy  to  the  lad,  and  thereafter 
helps    the    lad    to    gain    success    and    fortune. 

Tom  Thatcher's   Fortune.     By    Horatio    Alger,  Jk. 

12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Tom  Thatcher  is  a  brave,  ambitious,  unselfish  boy.  He  supports  his 
mother  and  sister  on  meagre  wages  earned  as  a  shoo-pegger  in  John 
Simpson's  factory.  Tom  is  discharged  from  the  factory  and  starts  over- 
land for  California.  He  meets  with  many  adventures.  The  story  Is  told 
in  a  way  which  has  made  Mr.  Alger's  name  a  household  word  in  so  many 
homes. 

The  Train    Boy.     By    Horatio    Alger,    Je.     12mo, 

cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Paul  Palmer  was  a  wide-awake  boy  of  sixteen  who  supported  his  mother 
and  sister  by  selling  books  and  papers  on  the  Chicago  and  Milwaukee 
Railroad.  He  detects  a  young  man  in  the  act  of  picking  the  pocket  of  a 
young  lady.  In  a  railway  accident  many  passengers  are  killed,  but  Panl 
is  fortunate  enough  to  assist  a  Chicago  merchant,  who  out  of  gratitude 
takes  him  into  his  employ.  Paul  succeeds  with  tact  and  judgment  and 
is   well   started   on   the   road   to   business  prominence. 

Mark  Mason's  Victory.     The  Trials  and  Triiimplis  of 

a  Telegraph  Boy.    By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price 

$1.00. 

Mark  Mason,  the  telegraph  boy,  was  a  sturdy,  honest  lad,  who  plucklly 
Won  his  way  to  success  by  his  honest  manly  efforts  under  many  diffi- 
culties. This  story  will  please  the  very  large  class  of  boys  who  regard 
Mr.    Alger   as    a    favorite   author. 

A  Debt  of  Honor.     The  Story  of  Gerald  Lane's  Success 

in  the  Far  West.    By  Horatio  AixssR,  Jr.     12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  prica 

$1.00. 

The  story  of  Gerald  Lane  and  the  account  of  the  many  trials  and  dis- 
appointments which  he  passed  through  befoi  he  attained  success,  will 
interest  all  boys  who  have  read  the  previous  stories  of  this  delightful 
author. 

Ben  Bruce.     Scenes  in  the  Life  of  a  Bowery  jSTewsboy. 

By  Horatio  Alger,  Jr.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00 
Ben  Bruce  was  a  brave,  manly,  generous  boy.     The  story  of  his  efforts, 
and  many  sopming  failures  and  disappointments,  and  his  final  success,  are 
most    interesting    to    all    readers.     The    tale    is    written    in    Mr.    Alger's 
most  fascinating  style. 

The  Castaways;  or,  On  the  Florida  Eeefs.     By  James 

Otis.    12mo,  cloih,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  tale  smacks  of  the  salt  sea.  Prom  the  moment  that  the  Sea 
Queen  leaves  lower  New  York  ba.v  til!  the  breeze  leaves  her  heealmed  ofC 
the  coast  of  Florida,  one  can  almost  hear  the  whistle  of  the  wind 
through  her  rigginjr,  the  creak  of  her  straining  cordage  as  she  heels  to 
the  leeward.  The  adventures  of  Ben  Clark,  the  hero  of  the  storv  and 
Jake  the  cook,  cannot  fail  to  charm  the  reader.  As  a  writer  for  young 
people    Mr.    Otis    is    a    prime    favorite. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A,   L.   BUET,    £2-58  Duane  Street,   New  York. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  3 

BOOKS  rOR  BOYS. 

Wrecked  on  Spider  Island;  or.  How  Ned  Rogers  Found 

the  Treasure.    By  James  Otis.    liJmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Ned  Rogers,  a  "down-east"  plucky  lad  ships  as  cabin  boy  to  earn 
a  livelihood.  Ned  is  marooned  on  Spider  Island,  and  while  there  dis- 
covers a  wreck  submerged  in  tht-  sand,  and  finds  a  considerable  amount 
of  treasure.  The  capture  of  the  treasure  and  the  incidents  of  the 
voy;ige  se.ve  to  make  :is  entertaining  a  story  of  sea-life  as  the  most 
captious    boy    could    desire. 

The  Searcli  for  the  Silver  City :  A  Tale  of  x\.dventiire  iu 

Yucatan.    Sy  James  Otis.    12rao,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Two  lads,  Teddy  Wright  and  Neal  Emery,  embark  on  the  steam 
yacht  Day  Dream  for  a  cruise  to  the  tropics.  The  yacht  is  destroyed 
by  fire,  and  then  the  boat  is  cast  upon  the  coast  of  Yucatan.  They 
hear  of  the  wonderful  Silver  City,  of  the  Chan  Santa  Cruz  Indians, 
and  with  the  help  of  a  faithful  Indian  ally  carry  off  a  number  of  the 
golden  images  from  the  temples.  Pursued  with  relentless  vigor  at  last 
their  escape  is  effected  in  an  astonishing  manner.  The  story  is  so 
full  of  exciting  incidents  that  the  reader  is  quite  carried  away  with 
the   novelty   and    realism   of   the    narrative. 

A    Runaway    Brig;  or,    An    Accidental    Cruise.      By 

James  Oxm.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  gl.OQ. 

This  is  a  sea  tale,  and  the  reader  can  look  out  upon  the  wide  shimmer- 
ing sea  as  It  dashes  back  the  suuliglit,  and  imajriue  himself  aJoat  with 
Harry  Vandyne,  Walter  Morse,  Jim  Llbby  and  that  old  shell-back.  Bob 
Brace,  on  the  brig  Bonitu.  The  beys  discover  a  mysterious  document 
which  enables  them  to  find  a  buried  treasure.  They  are  stranded  on 
an  Island  and  at  last  are  rescued  with  the  treasure.  The  boys  are  sure 
to  he  fascinated  viith  this  entertaining  story. 

The     Treasure    Tinders:     A     Boy's    Adventures     in 

Nicaragua.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  Ulustrated,  price  $1.00. 

Roy  aud  Dean  Coloney,  with  their  guide  Tongla,  leave  their  father's 
Indigo  plantation  to  visit  the  wonderful  ruins  of  an  ancient  city.  The 
boys  eagerl.v  e:;!iI,>ro  the  temples  of  yn  extinct  race  and  discover  three 
golden  images  cunningly  hidden  away.  They  escape  with  the  greatest 
difficulty.  Eventually  they  reach  safety  with  their  golden  prizes.  We 
doubt  if  there  ever  was  written  a  more  entertaining  story  than  "The 
Treasure    Finders." 

Jack,  the  Hunchback.     A  Story  of  the  Coast  of  Maine. 

By  James  Otis.    Price  $1.00. 

This  is  the  story  of  a  little  hunchback  who  lived  on  Cape  Elizabeth, 
on  the  coast  of  Maine.  His  trials  and  successes  are  most  interesting. 
From  first  to  last  nothing  stays  the  interest  of  the  narrative.  It  bears  us 
along  as  on  a  stream  whose  current  varies  in  direction,  but  never  loses 
Its    force. 

With  V/ashingtoii  at  Monmouth:    A    Story   of   Threo 

Philadelphia   Boys.     By  James  Otis.     13mo,   ornamental   cloth,    olivine 

edges,  illustrated,  price  $1.50. 

Three  Philadelphia  lads  assist  the  American  spies  and  make  regular 
and  fre(iu''iit  visits  to  Valle.r  Forge  iu  the  Winter  while  the  Briiish 
occupied  the  city.  The  story  abounds  with  pictures  of  Colonial  life 
skillfully  drawn,  and  the  glimpses  of  Washington's  soldiers  which  are 
given  shown  that  the  work  has  not  been  hastily  done,  or  without  con- 
siderable sturTjr.  The  story  is  wholesome  and  patriotic  in  tone,  as  are 
all    of    Mr.    Olis'    works. 

For  sale  b'  .ill  bnoUsellors,  or  sent  postpaid  mt  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.    ^.  BURT,  52-38  Duane  Street,   New  York. 


4  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOE  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

With  Lafayette  at  Yorktown:  A  Story  of  How  Two 

Boys  Joined  the  Continental  Army.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  ornamental 

cloth,  olivine  edges,  illustrated,  price  $1.50. 

Two  lads  from  Portm.uth,  N.  H.,  attempt  to  enlist  In  tho  Colonial 
Army,  and  are  givi'u  employment  as  spies.  There  Is  no  lack  of  exciting 
Incidents  which  the  youthful  reader  craves,  but  it  is  healthful  excite- 
ment brimming  witb  facts  which  every  boy  should  be  familiar  with, 
and  while  the  reader  is  following  the  adventures  of  Ben  Jaflfravs  and 
Ned  Allen  he  Is  acquiring  a  fund  of  historical  lore  which  will  "remain 
in  bis  memory  long  after  that  which  he  has  memorized  from  text- 
books  has   been   forgotten. 

\kt  the  Siege  of  Havana.     Being  the  Experiences  of 

Three  Boys  Serving  under  Israel  Putnam  in  17C2.    By  James  Otis.    13mo, 

ornamental  cloth,  olivine  edges,  illustrated,  price  $1.50. 
"At    the    Siege    of    Havana"    deals    with    that    portion    of    the    Island's 
history    when    the    English    king    captured    the    capital,    thanks    to    the 
assistance    given    by   tho   troops   from    New    England,    led   in   part   by   Col. 
Israel    Putnam. 

The   principal  characters  are  Darius  Lunt,   tho  lad  who,    represented  an 

telling     the     story,     and     his     comrades,     Robert     Clement     and     Nicholas 

Vallet.     Colonel    Putnam   also   figures   to   considerable   extent,    necessaril.y, 

'  In  the  tale,  and  the  whole  forms  one  of  the  most  readable  stories  founded  on 

historical    facts. 

The  Defense  of  Fort  Henry.       A  Story  of  Wlieeling 

Crv'ek  in  1777.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  ornamentaJ  c'olh,  oliviuo  edges, 

illustrated,  price  ^1.50. 

Nowhere  in  the  history  of  our  countrv  can  be  found  more  heroic  or 
thrilling  incidents  than  In  the  story  of  those  brave  men  and  women 
^ho  founded  the  settlement  of  Wheeling  in  the  Colony  of  Virginia.  The 
recital  of  what  Elizabeth  Zane  did  is  in  itself  as  heroic  a  story  as  can 
be  Imagined.  The  wondrous  bravery  displayed  by  Ma.ior  McCulloch 
and  his  gallant  comrades,  the  sufferings  of  the  colonists  ai;c!  t  Joir  sacrifice 
Of  blood  and  life,  stir  the  blood  of  old  as  well  as  young  readers. 

The  Capture  of  the  Laughing  Mary.     A  Story  of  Three 

New  York  Boys  in  1776.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  ornamental  cloth,  olivine 

edges,  price  $1.50. 

"During  the  British  occupancy  of  New  York,  at  the  outbreak  of  the 
Revolution,  a  Yankee  lad  hears  of  the  plot  to  take  General  Washington's 
person,  and  calls  In  two  companions  to  assist  the  patriot  cause.  They 
do  some  astonishing  things,  and.  Incidentally,  lay  the  way  for  an 
American  navy  later,  by  the  exploit  which  gives  its  name  to  the 
work.  Mr.  Otis'  books  are  too  well  known  to  require  any  particular 
commendation  to  the  young." — Evening  Post. 

With  Warren  at  Bunker  Hill.    A  Story  of  the  Siege  of 

Boston.     By  .Tames  Otis.     13mo,  omametnal  cloth,  olivine  edges,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.50. 

"This  is  a  tale  of  the  siege  of  Boston,  which  ^ens  on  the  day  after 
the  doings  at  Lexington  and  Concord,  with  a  description  of  home  life 
in  Boston,  introduces  the  reader  to  the  British  camp  at  Charlestown, 
Bhows  Gen.  Warren  at  home,  describes  what  a  boy  thought  of  the 
battle  of  Bunker  Hill,  and  closes  with  the  raising  of  the  siege.  The 
three  heroes,  George  Wentwoith.  Ben  Scarlett  and  an  old  ri-pemaker, 
incur  the  enmity  of  a  young  Tory,  who  causes  them  many  adventures 
the  boys  will  like  to  read." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  er  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.   BU2.T,   52-5S  Duane  Street,  Hew  York. 


A.  L.  BURT'S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  ^        5 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

With,  the  Swamp  Fox.     The  Story  of  General  Marion's 

Spies.    By  James  Otis.    ISrao,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  51.00. 

This  story  deals  with  General  Francis  Marion's  heroic  struggle  in  the 
Carolinas.  General  Marion'.s  arrival  to  tako  command  of  these  brave 
men  and  rough  riders  is  pictured  as  a  boy  might  have  Seen  it,  and 
although  the  story  is  devoted  to  what  the  lads  did,  the  Swamp  Fox 
is    ever    present    in    the    i.iiud    oi    the    readL-r. 

On  the  Kentucky  Frontier.     A  Story  of  the  Fighting 

Pioneers  of  the  West.  By  James  Otis.  ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1, 
In  the  history  of  our  country  there  is  no  more  thrilling  story  than 
that  of  the  work  done  on  the  Mississippi  river  by  a  handful  of  frontiers- 
men. Mr.  Otis  takes  the  reader  on  that  famous  expedition  from  the 
arrival  of  Major  Clarke's  force  at  Corn  Island,  until  iCasiiaskia  was 
captured.  He  relates  that  part  of  Simon  Kenton's  life  history  wbich 
is  not  usually  touched  Uijou  either  by  the  historian  or  the  story  teller. 
This  is  one  of  the  most  entertaining  books  for  young  people  which  has 
been    pubUshi.-d. 

Sarah  Dillard's  Ride.      A   Story  of  South  Carolina  in 

in  1780.    JJy  James  Otis.    l;imo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  §1.00. 

"This  book  deals  with  the  Carolinas  in  1780,  givinj?  a  wealth  of  detaiT  of 
the  Mountain  Men  wlio  struggled  so  valiantly  against  the  king's  troops. 
Major  Ferguson  is  the  prominent  British  officer  of  the  story,  which  is 
told  as  though  coming  from  a  youth  who  experienced  these  adventures. 
In  this  way  the  famous  ride  of  Sarah  Dillard  is  brought  out  as  an 
incident  of  the  plot." — Boston  Journal. 

A  Tory  Plot.     A  Story  of  the  Attempt  to  Kill  General 

Washington.    By  James  Otis.    ISmo,  cloth,  illust;ateO,  price  Si  00. 

"  'A  Tory  Plot'  is  the  story  of  tvio  lads  who  overhear  something 
of  the  plot  originated  during  the  Revolution  by  Gov.  Tiyoa  to  capture 
or  murder  Washington.  They  communicate  their  knowledge  to  Gen. 
I'utuam  and  are  commissioned  by  him  to  play  the  role  of  detectives 
In  the  matter.  They  do  so,  and  meet  with  many  adventures  and  hair- 
breadth escapes.  The  boys  are,  of  course,  mythical,  but  they  serve  to  en- 
able the  author  to  put  into  very  attractive  shape  much  valuable  knowledge 
concerning  one  phase  of  the  Revolution." — Pittsburgh  Times. 

A  Traitor's  Escape.     A  Ston,'-  of  the  Attempt  to  Seize 

Benedict  Arnold.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"This  is  a  tale  with  stirring  scenes  depicted  in  each  chapter,  bringing 
clearly  before  the  mind  the  glorious  deeds  of  tiie  early  settlers  in  this 
country.  In  an  historical  work  dealing  with  this  country's  past,  no 
plot  can  hold  the  attention  closer  than  tais  ono,  which  <ieseribes  the 
attempt  and  partial  success  of  Benedict  Arnold's  escape  to  New  York, 
where  he  remained  as  the  guest  of  Sir  Henry  Clinton.  All  those  who 
actually  figured  in  the  arrest  of  the  traitor,  as  well  as  Gen.  Washing- 
ton, are  included  as  characters." — Albany  XTnion. 

A  Cruise  with  Paul  Jones.     A  Story  of  Naval  Warfare 

in  1776.    By  James  Otis.     12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  SI  00. 

"This  story  takes  up  that  portion  of  Paul  Jones*  adventurous  life 
when  he  was  hovering  off  the  ISritish  coast,  watching  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  strike  the  enemy  a  blow.  It  deals  more  particularly  with 
his  descent  upon  Whitehaven,  the  seizure  of  Lady  Selkirk's  plate,  and 
the  famous  battle  with  the  Drake.  The  boy;' who  tigures  in  the  tale 
Is  one  who  was  taken  from  a  derelict  by  Paul-  Jones  shortly  after  this 
uurtieular  cruise  was  begun." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 


For  sale  bv   ail  booksellers,   or  sent   post[iaid  en   receipt  of  price  By  the 
publisher.  A.  L.  BURT,  52-58  Suane  Street,  Kew  York. 


6  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS^  ~ 

Corporal  Lige's  Recruit.     A  Story  of  Crown  Point  and 

Ticonderoga.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1,00. 

"In  "Corporal  Ligo's  Recruit,'  Mr.  Otis  tells  the  amusins  story  of  an 
old  soldier,  proud  of  his  record,  who  had  served  the  king  in  '58.  and  who 
Jtakf'S  the  lad,  Lsaae  Rico,  .ts  his  'personal  recruit.'  The  lad  acquits 
himself  superbly.  Col.  Ethan  Allen  "in  the  name  of  God  and  the  con- 
tinental congress,'  infuses  much  martial  spirit  into  the  narrative,  which 
will  arouse  the  keenest  interest  as  it  proceeds.  Crown  Point.  Ticon- 
deroga, Benedict  Arnold  and  numerous  other  famous  historical  names 
appear  in  this  dramatic  tale." — Boston  Globe. 

Morgan,  the  Jersey  Spy.  A  Story  of  the  Siege  of  York- 
town  in  1781.    By  James  Otis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

"The  tv.o  lads  who  are  utilized  by  the  author  to  emphasis"  tha  details 
of  the  work  done  during  that  memorable  time  were  real  boys  who  lived 
on  the  banks  of  the  York  river,  and  who  aided  the  Jersey  spy  in  his 
dangerous  occupation.  In  the  guise  of  fishermen  the  lads  visit  York- 
town,  are  suspected  of  being  spies,  and  put  under  arrest.  Morgan  risks 
his  life  to  save  them.  The  Onal  escape,  the  thrilling  encouut'-r  with  a 
squad  of  red  coats,  when  they  are  exposed  equally  to  the  bullets  of 
friends  and  foes,  told  in  a  masterly  fashion,  makes  of  this  volume  one 
of  the  imost  entertaining  books  of  the  year." — Inter-Oceaa. 

The  Young  Scout:  The  Story  of  a  West  Point  Lieu- 
tenant. By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 
The  crafty  Apache  chief  Gerouimo  but  a  few  years  ago  was  the 
most  terrible  scourge  of  the  southwest  border.  The  author  has  woven, 
in  a  tale  of  thrilling  interest,  all  the  incidents  of  (ierouimo's  last  raid. 
The  hero  la  Lieutenant  James  Decker,  a  recent  graduate  of  West  Point. 
Ambitious  to  distinguish  himself  the  young  man  takes  many  a  desperate 
chance  against  the  enemy  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  narrowly 
escapes  with  his  life.  In  our  opinion  Mr.  Ellis  is  the  best  writer  of 
Indian    stories    now    before    the    public 

Adrift  in  the  Wilds:  The  Adventures  of  Two  Ship- 
wrecked Boys.  By  Edward  S.  Ellis.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 
Elwood  Brandon  and  Howard  Lawrence  are  en  route  for  San  Fran- 
cisco. Off  the  coast  of  California  the  steamer  takes  fire.  The  two  boys 
reach  the  shore  with  several  of  the  passengers.  Young  P.randon  be- 
comes separated  from  his  party  and  is  captured  by  hostile  Indians, 
but  is  afterwards  rescued.  This  is  a  very  entertaining  narrative  of 
Southern    California. 

A  Young  Hero;  or,  Fighting  to  Win.     By  Edward  S. 

Ellis.    12mo.  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  tells  how  a  valuable  solid  silver  service  was  stolen  from 
the  Misses  Perkinpine,  two  very  old  and  simple  minded  ladies.  Fred 
Sheldon,  the  hero  of  this  story,  undertakes  to  discover  the  thieves  and 
have  them  arrested.  After  much  time  spent  in  detective  work,  he 
succeeds  in  discovering  the  silver  plate  and  winning  the  reward.  The 
story  is  told  in  Mr.  Ellis'  most  fascinating  style.  Every  boy  will  be 
glad  to  read  this  delightful   book. 

Lost  in  the  Rockies.     A  Story  of  Adventure  in  the 

Rocky  Mountains.    By  Edward  S.  Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1. 

Incident  succeeds  incident,  and  adventure  is  piled  upon  adventure, 
and  at  the  end  the  reader,  be  he  boy  or  man,  will  have  experienced 
breathless  enjoyment  in  this  romantic  story  describing  many  adventures  In 

the   Rockies  and  among  the   Indians. 

For  sale  by  all  book.sellers.  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,  A.  L.  BUBT,  52-68  Ouace  Street,  Kew  York. 


A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE.  7 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS. 

A  Jaunt  Through  Java:     The  Story  of  a  Journey  to 

the  Sacred  Mountain.    By  Edwakd  S.  Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  81.00. 

The  interest    of    this  story    is    found    in    the    thrilling    adventures  .  of 

two  cousins,  IliTinon  and  Kustace  Hadl'?y,  on  their  tiin  ucrrsss  the  island 
of  Java,  from  feamarang  to  the  Sacred  Mountain.  In  a  laud  where  the 
Boyal  Bcnfral  tiger,  the  rhinoceros,  and  other  fierce  lieasts  are  to  be 
met  with,  it  is  but  natural  that  the  heroes  of  this  book  should  have  a 
lively  experience.     There  is  not  a  dull  page  in  the  book. 

The  Boy  Patriot.     A  Story  of  Jack,  the  Young  Friend 

of  ■U"ashi:i,','ton.     By  Ed'.vasd  S.  Ellis.    12mo,  cloth,  oliviue  eelges,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.50. 

"There  are  adventures  of  all  kinds  for  the  hero  and  his  friends,  whose 
pluck  and  ingenuity  in  extricating  themselves  from  awkward  fixes  are 
always  equal  to  the  occasion.  It  is  an  excellent  story  full  of  honest, 
manly,  patriotic  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  hero.  A  very  vivid  description 
of  the  battle  of  Trenton  is  also  found  in  this  story." — Journal  of 
Education. 

A  Yankee  Lad's  Pluck.     How  Bert  Larkin  Saved  his 

Father's  Ranch  in  Porto  Rico.    By  Wm.  P.  Chipman.    13mo,  cloth,  illus- 
trated, price  $1.00. 
"Bert  Larkin,   the  hero    of    the    story,  early  excites    our    admiration, 

and  is  altogether  a  fine  character  such  as  boys  will  delight  in,  v.-hilsc 
the  story  of  his  numerous  adventures  Is  very  giaphically  told.  Thia 
will,  we  think,  prove  one  of  the  most  popular  boys'  books  this  season." — 

Gazette. 

A  Brave  Defense,     A   Story  of  the   Massacre  at   Fort 

Griswold  in  1781.    By  William  P.  Chipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price 

$1.00. 

Perhaps  no   more   gallant   fight   against   fearful  odds   took    place   during 

the  Revolutionary  War  than  that  at  Fort  Griswold,  Groton  Heights,  Conn., 
in  1781.  The  boys  are  real  boys  who  were  actually  on  the  muster  rolls, 
either  at  Fort  Trumbull  on  the  New  London  side,  or  of  Fort  Griswold  on 
the  Groton  side  of  the  Thames.  Tl;e  youthful  reader  who  follows  Haisey 
Sanford  and  Levi  Part  and  Tom  Malleson,  and  their  equally  brave  com- 
rades, through  their  thrilling  adventures  will  be  learning  something  more 
than  historical  facts;  they  will  be  imbibing  lessons  of  fidelity,  of  bravery, 
of  heroism,  and  of  manliness,  which  must  prove  serviceable  in  the  arena 
of  life. 

The  Young  Minuteman.     A  Story  of  the  Capture  of 

General  Prescott  in  1777.    By  "William  P.  Chipman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  $1.00. 

This  story  is  based  upon  actual  events  which  occurred  during  the  British 
occupation  of  the  waters  of  Narragansett  Bay.  Darius  Wale  and  William 
Northrop  belong  tO|  "the  coast  patrol."  The  story  is  a  strong  one,  dealing 
only  with  actual  events.  There  is,  however,  no  lack  of  thrilling  adventure, 
and  every  lad  who  is  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  the  book  will  find  not 
only  that  his  historical  knowledge  is  increased,  but  that  his  own  patriotism 
and  love  of  country  are  deepened. 

For  the  Temple:     A  Tale  of  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem. 

By  G.  A.  Hentt.  With  illustrations  by  S.  J.  Solomon.  12mo,  cloth,  olivina 
edges,  price  $1.00. 

"Mr.  Henty's  graphic  prose  picture  of  the  hopeless  Jewish  resistance 
to  Roman  sway  adds  another  leaf  to  his  record  of  the  famous  war;?  of 
the  world.     The  book  is  one  of  Mr.    Henty's  cleverest  efforts." — Graphic. 

I'or  sale  by  all  !,>oo!;s;']Ii  rs,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
publisher,   A.   L.   BURT,    52-68  Duane   Street,   New  York. 


8  A.  L.  BURT^S  BOOKS  FOR  YOUNG  PEOPLE. 

BOOKS  FOR  BOYS.  ~ 

Roy  Gilbert's  Search :     A  Tale  of  the  Great  Lakes.     By 

Wm.  p.  Chifman.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

A  deep  mystery  hangs  over  the  parentage  of  Roy  Gilbert.  He  arranges 
with  two  schoolmates  to  make  a  tour  of  the  Great  Lakes  on  a  steam 
launch.  The  three  boys  visit  many  points  of  Interest  on  the  lakes. 
Afterwards  the  lads  rescue  an  elderly  gentleman  and  a  lady  from  a  sink- 
ing yacht.  Later  on  the  boys  narrowly  escape  with  their  lives.  The 
hero  is  a  manly,  self-reliant  boy,  whose  adventures  will  be  followed 
with    interest. 

The  Slate  Picker:     The  Story  of  a  Boy's  Life  in  the 

Coal  Mines.    By  Harrt  Prentice.    13mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  is  a  story  of  a  boy's  life  in  the  coal  mines  of  Pennsylvania. 
Ben  Burton,  the  hero,  had  a  hard  road  to  travel,  but  by  grit  and  energy 
he  advanei'd  step  by  step  until  he  found  himself  callid  upon  to  fill  the 
position  of  chief  engineer  of  the  Kohinoor  Coal  Company.  This  is  a 
book  of  rxtreme   interest   to  every   boy   reader. 

The  Boy  Cruisers;  or,  Paddling  in  Florida.     By  St. 

George  Rathbornk.  12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00 
Andrew  George  and  Rowland  Carter  start  on  a  canoe  trip  along  the 
Gulf  coast,  from  Key  West  to  Tampa,  Florida.  Their  first  adventure 
Is  with  a  pair  of  rascals  who  steal  their  boats.  Next  they  run  Into 
a  gale  in  the  Gulf.  After  that  they  have  a  lively  time  with  alli- 
gators and  Andrew  gets  into  trouble  with  a  band  of  Seminole  Indians. 
Mr.  Rathborne  knows  just  how  to  interest  the  boys,  and  lads  who  are 
in  search  of  a  rare  treat  will  do  well  to.  read  this  entertaining  story. 

Captured  by  Zulus:     A  Story  of  Trapping  in  Africa. 

By  Harry  Prentice.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  story  details  the  adventures  of  two  lads,  Dick  Blsworth  and  Bob 
Harvc-y,  in  the  wilds  of  South  Africa.  By  stratagem  the  Zulus  capture 
Dick  and  Bob  and  take  them  to  their  principal  kraal  or  village.  Thu 
lads  escape  death  by  digging  their  way  out  of  the  prison  hut  b.v  night. 
They  are  pursued,  but  the  Zulus  finally  give  up  pursuit.  Mr.  Prentice 
tells  exactly  how  wild-beast  collectors  secure  specimens  on  their  native 
stamping  grounds,   and  these  descriptions  make  very  entertaining  re">ding. 

Tom  the  Ready;  or,  Up  from  the  Lowest.     By  Ean- 

DOLPH  HiUi.    12mo,  cloth,  illustrated,  price  $1.00. 

This  ia  a  dramatic  narrative  of  the  unaided  rise  of  a  fearless,  ambi- 
tious boy  from  the  lowest  round  of  fortune's  ladder  to  wealth  and  the 
governorship  of  his  native  State.  Tom  Seacomb  begins  life  with  a  pur- 
pose, and  eventually  overcomes  those  who  oppose  him.  How  he  manages 
to  win  the  battle  is  told  by  Mr.  Hill  in  a  masterfrl  way  that  thrills 
the  reader  and  holds  his  attention  and  sympathy  to  the  end. 

Captain  Kidd's  Gold:     The  Tnie  Story  of  an  Adven- 
turous Sailor  Boy.    By  James  Franklin  Fitts.    ISmo,  cloth,  illustrated, 

price  $1.00. 

There  ia  something  fascinating  to  the  average  youth  in  the  very  Idea 
of  buried  treasure.  A  vision  ari?ps  before  his  eyes  of  swarthy  Portu- 
guese and  Spanish  rascals,  with  black  beards  and  gleaming  eyes.  There 
were  many  famous  sea  rovers,  but  none  more  celebrated  than  Capt.  Kidd. 
Paul  Jones  Garry  inherits  a  document  which  locates  a  considerable 
treasure  buried  by  two  of  Kidd's  crew.  The  hero  of  this  book  is  an 
:i'nbitious,  persevering  lad,  of  salt-water  New  England  ancestry,  and  his 
efforts  to  reach  the  island  and  secure  the  money  form  one  of  the  niost 
fibsorbing    tales    for   our   .vonth    that    has   come    from    the    press. 

For  sale  1^  all  booksellers,  or  sent  postpaid  on  receipt  of  price  by  the 
pullisher,   A.   L.   BITET,   52-58  Duane   Street,   New  ^ork. 


